The Hunt
by MiSSxMELON
Summary: There's a new gang in Gotham - Snatchers. The Joker's plans with Batman are derailed, but hey, this is a LOT more fun. How could he ever go back to ripping off mob dealers?
1. Prologue

Panting, Hermione Granger ran as fast as she could through the woods. She was dressed head-to-toe in black - black trousers, black long-sleeved shirt and black cloak. It looked to be a uniform of sorts. Her usual bushy hair was tied up in a ponytail, which swished side to side when she ran, revealing a black, thinly-scrawled tattoo on the back of her neck - the number one.

After a good hour or so of running past bare trees and the occasional bush, she arrived in a clearing and stopped to rest, hands on her knees. As she glanced up, she caught a glimpse of what was in front of her and gasped in horror.

"No, no, no," Hermione whispered.

Hermione glanced around and, glad to find herself alone, sighed. She reached tentatively for the handle.

"You can do this," she thought to herself. But as she gazed upon the object, sitting innocuously in a bed of leaves, she wasn't so sure.

How on earth was she going to escape on this?

Exasperated, Hermione collapsed to the ground in a heap of autumn leaves. It was hopeless, and she was tired. Hermione wracked her brain for some alternative.

"Anything but this," Hermione pleaded silently. But who was she expecting to answer?

Her temporary relief was cut short by the sound of voices from afar, the faint thudding of footsteps.

Hermione immediately jumped up, her mind and body alert.

"You have to do this," Hermione ordered herself.

"Up," Hermione commanded the broom, which immediately obeyed her command. That was a good sign at least. She had somehow improved since her first year.

Hermione gulped as she swung her right leg over the Nimbus 2001. She hovered over the ground and could barely contain a squeal.

"For Merlin's sake, get yourself together!" Hermione hissed. "You have to do this. For the Order. For Harry and Ron."

And with that, she flew as fast as she could, ponytail whipping in the air, into the night.

She didn't know how long she flew, but eventually her fear subsided and her adrenaline kicked in. It was a rocky start; Hermione's clothes were torn from the branches she scraped, her face suffering a few scratches. All Hermione knew was that she was relieved to hear the voices fade away. She eventually came upon a winding road and flew far above, following it, certain that the dark sky and her attire obscured her from the occasional car. After awhile, Hermione wasn't sure how long she had been flying for, but her face was numb from the wind. Still, she had to keep going, at least before first light.

Nodding off, she unknowingly passed a sign that read: Welcome to Gotham City


	2. Where I End and You Begin

Lying on the cold, stone floor, which now doubled as a bed, Hermione gazed up at the vaulted ceiling, a bit fancy for the average dungeon. It was the little details that gave away where she was.

She didn't know how long she had been imprisoned in Malfoy Manor, but it had definitely been more than a month. At least that's what Hermione thought. She had lost count somewhere between day 25 and day 30. It was nearly impossible to keep track of time when there were no windows or consistent meal times. Also, she was still physically and mentally recovering from the first week of torture.

Hermione smiled, not at the memory of pain, but at knowing how successful she had been at hiding information from Voldemort. He had first allowed his Death Eaters, particularly Bellatrix Lestrange, to quite sharply question Hermione for the Order's and Harry's whereabouts and other information, but for all their combined intelligence, they hadn't caught on. However, when Voldemort had his first go at her, he immediately realized why no one had been successful at gleaning information from Hermione. Simply put, she truly did not know anything.

Of course, Hermione didn't know who had Obliviated her, as that memory had been simultaneously erased. She figured in a non-egotistical way that it was, at the very least, her own idea, even if she hadn't executed it herself. She knew, from her torture sessions, that a group of Snatchers had chased her, Harry and Ron through the Forest of Dean. Hermione theorized that they must have somehow split up and she got left behind. Or perhaps she had intentionally sacrificed herself. Either way, she wasn't sure of much up until the beginning of sixth year. She knew this was the middle of her seventh and, of course, was well aware of the general state of matters.

She couldn't be sure, but Hermione was positive that, what with Harry, Ron and the rest of the Order still out there, the war must be going relatively well for her side. Not all hope was lost. That thought was what kept Hermione alive and as healthy as she could be, lying in her cell. After that first week of torture, she had been left alone. In the time since, Hermione made herself go over spells from every subject to keep her mind sharp. She even began doing physical exercises once her body healed up somewhat. No matter what, Hermione was determined not to give up, to be ready to face whatever was next. She had to remain useful to the Order, whether it meant rejoining them or sabotaging the other side on her own.

It was difficult, of course, to plan anything without knowledge. Hermione never saw anyone anymore, though she did prefer that to torture. She was sure there were others being held captive at Malfoy Manor, but she was understandably isolated. Hermione's meals appeared when she was sleeping. Once she had stayed up for over 36 hours, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever brought her her meals. She didn't see anyone and inevitably crashed, eventually waking up to see a plate of cold scrambled eggs and sausages. Frustrated, Hermione refused to eat until about seven hours later when her stubbornness wore down. It certainly wasn't going to help if she didn't sustain her body. And something told her that Voldemort wouldn't react well to a hunger strike.

It was somewhere between day 40 and 50 that she woke up to a strange, burning sensation on the back of her neck. Her fingers explored the area, feeling the bump on her skin. After a couple of minutes of feeling around, Hermione deduced that the number one was tattooed there, though she had no idea why. She also noticed a slight change of scenery - there was a neat pile of folded clothes in the corner of her cell, next to a plate of bangers and mash. She cautiously examined the clothing - a cloak, a shirt and trousers. There were also a pair of long socks and boots. Hermione looked down at her filthy, tattered jeans, sweater and bare feet. Why did they suddenly care about her appearance? She knew she was only useful as a hostage, but hostages only needed sustenance.

Hermione figured she must be having company today. If that was the case, someone would come and get her. She decided to wait to change. Perhaps she could glean some information herself.

It only took about fifteen minutes for Hermione's suspicions to be confirmed. She could hear the crisp footsteps become louder as her visitor finally reached her cell.

"How did I know I would find you in those filthy rags?" Draco Malfoy sneered, arms crossed. "I suppose it's too much to expect a mudblood like you to be civilized."

Hermione immediately stood up and glared back at Malfoy defiantly.

"And I suppose locking someone up in a dungeon is considered civilized in your world?" Hermione shot back. Though that wasn't her best comeback, she was glad to still have her wits about her.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"Enough of the chatter," he snapped, turning around. "I suggest you change quickly or else the Dark Lord is not going to be very pleased."

Hermione supposed she could have been difficult, but given her circumstances, it didn't seem that wise.

So she, albeit grudgingly, changed into her new, entirely black wardrobe and followed a brooding Malfoy. After their little exchange, Malfoy fell silent, perhaps in anticipation of what awaited them. Hermione's questions ("What's going on? Do you have any news of the Order? Has Harry been caught?" and so on) fell on deaf ears. Well, semi-deaf, as Malfoy seemed to clench his teeth and fists every time Hermione spoke.

They reached the end of the hallway, passing closed doors ("Who else is here? Why haven't I seen anyone?"), and walked up a spiral staircase, which led to another, much fancier, hallway. Hermione was only just getting used to not being barefoot; the plush carpet felt even stranger underneath her boots. She could hear faint voices as they continued.

"Now be quiet," Malfoy hissed.

Judging by Malfoy's fearful state, Hermione figured they must be close to Voldemort. Her heart beat faster. She hated herself for being frightened as well.

Malfoy must have noticed the change in Hermione's mood, for he gave her a queer look before he stopped abruptly, knocking on an elaborately carved mahogany door to their left.

"Come in," came a terrifyingly familiar hiss as the door opened.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of Lord Voldemort sitting in a velvet chair beside the fireplace. His ruby eyes seemed to penetrate Hermione's very soul. Nagin, slithering around his shoulders, also had her eyes trained on Hermione. Another man in plaid pants and a black leather jacket stood next to him, smirking at Hermione. She had no idea who he was, but this man obviously seemed to know who she was. After all, who didn't? Hermione was sure her capture was widely publicized as a demoralizing blow to the Order.

Malfoy stepped forward and knelt.

"I've brought the mudblood as you asked, my Lord," he said.

"Yes, I see that," Voldemort said, drawing out his s's like a snake. "What a surprise, young Malfoy actually following directions for once. Perhaps you are not entirely like your father."

Malfoy hesitated, unsure what to say.

"Thank you, my Lord," Malfoy stammered, still kneeling, though Hermione wouldn't have considered Voldemort's snide comment a compliment. She did suppose, however, that anything that wasn't a curse was nice in Voldemort's case. "You are too kind."

"Leave us," Voldemort commanded.

"As you command," Malfoy replied, standing up and hurrying off quickly.

Hermione would have rolled her eyes at his cowardice, except, for all her Gryffindor bravery, she was shaking herself.

"Well, well," Voldemort's thin lips curled as his eyes flickered to Hermione. "How discourteous of you to not properly greet the Dark Lord."

He raised his wand and Hermione felt her knees buckling. She struggled, but to no avail, and found herself kneeling in front of Voldemort. She fumed on the inside and thought of how arrogant Voldemort was, referring to himself in third person, though that was the very least of his flaws.

"Now I am sure you are wondering why you have been graced with my presence?" Voldemort continued. He paused. "Care to guess, mudblood?"

Hermione knew better than to think this was a rhetorical question. At the same time, she was careful to neither offend nor appear stupid.

"You…have some news to share with me?" Hermione guessed with little hope. Again, she hated the way her voice squeaked, betraying her fear.

Voldemort laughed at Hermione's answer, and the man next to him chuckled as well.

"I suppose I do, but not of your _friends_," Voldemort replied. One of his pale, bony fingers pointed at the man in the plaid pants. "Do you know who this is?"

Hermione shook her head, and the man's grin grew wider.

"No idea?" Voldemort pressed.

Hermione took another look at the man, who had long brown hair with a red streak, and noticed the red band around his arm.

"He's a snatcher," Hermione said slowly. Obviously Voldemort was not introducing her to just any snatcher. "The one who captured me?"

"Very good," Voldemort breathed, leaning forward. "The brains of the trio, weren't you?"

This time Hermione knew not to answer. She could practically hear her own heart beating. This could only get worse, being in the presence of her captor and Voldemort. Though she couldn't remember the man, Hermione couldn't help but wondering if that was a good thing.

"I am going to be quite honest with you," Voldemort said softly. "It is no use having you locked up in a dungeon, hidden away from your friends. They have no intention of rescuing you, not here."

Voldemort may have meant to injure Hermione's feelings, but she didn't want her friends risking their lives for her. She knew it wasn't worth it and was queerly relieved to know they hadn't been needlessly conducting dangerous rescue missions.

"So I will let you go," Voldemort went on.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion at those words. Wait, what did Voldemort just say? Was she truly free?

Voldemort's smile grew at Hermione's reaction, sending chills down her spine.

"You do not think it will be that easy now, do you? I have more than one use for you. My followers are growing restless. Unlike me, they are weak and the war _strains_ them," Voldemort said, his face contorting in disapproving disgust. "So they need entertainment. They need to sharpen their skills. And what better way than to hunt a talented witch such as yourself?"

Hermione's mind raced as she took in Voldemort's words, her thoughts bouncing around rapidly. Were they going to release her, only to capture her again? No, this was more than that. Voldemort wanted to lure members of the Order. He wanted Harry and Ron to attempt to rescue her. Hermione couldn't let that happen. Still, whatever might lie in her future, Hermione was convinced she would have more opportunities to escape and help the Order than in her dank prison. At the very least, she would have to have some resources in order to entertain, if that was indeed one of her purposes. After all, Voldemort had emphasized her skills, which meant he wasn't looking for a common muggle to play with.

"Scabior here mentioned how he much thoroughly enjoyed capturing you the first time," Voldemort continued.

So that was his name. Scabior leered at Hermione, slightly baring his yellow teeth. Hermione could only wonder, with dread, what it was that Scabior had enjoyed so much.

"After what a good job he did finding you, it is only fair that he gets a chance to hunt you again," Voldemort said. He petted Nagini, whose tongue flickered at Hermione. "Perhaps you will prove more resilient this time."

Hermione's heart sunk. She didn't know anything about Scabior except that he was the one who had caught her. Eluding him, when she had failed the first time with two of her best mates, would undoubtedly prove difficult if not impossible.

But the next words Voldemort spoke ignited a fiery hope, an intense desire, within Hermione. It didn't matter what the rules of the game were. She now knew, indubitably, that this was her chance to shine.

"You will be given back your wand."


	3. Jigsaw Falling into Place

Although she was snug in her cozy sleeping bag, curled up on the floor of an abandoned home, Hermione eventually woke up to an uncomfortably empty stomach. It had been more than day since she last ate.

She sat up groggily and stretched, glad she had been able to find this place. It sure beat camping in the woods. Hermione enjoyed the insulated walls but, more importantly, being in a city, which meant being near food.

It was such a shame, really, that food couldn't be conjured. Hermione was sure she wasn't the only witch who had lamented that at some point in time.

And though she was grateful to be near so many sources of sustenance, Hermione was not looking forward to leaving her safe haven, where she had set up her wards. After all, she couldn't very well get food without being in the open, which she supposed was the whole point of everything. It was times like these that the hunt could get very interesting. In fact, Hermione was sure her hunter knew what she was thinking.

Still, during her midnight flight, she had witnessed many skyscrapers and gathered that she was in a large city. Perhaps there was a chance she could remain hidden, especially if there were a lot of people.

But Hermione wasn't going to take any chances. She quickly Disillusioned herself.

Normally, that would be enough of a disguise, but not where she was. Hermione hadn't seen enough to know exactly where she was geographically, but she knew this was a city of muggles. It always was. Because of that, the traces of her magic did not go unnoticed. Hermione would bet her life that there were very few witches and wizards here.

She would have to be quick and careful. Thankfully, Hermione was naturally observant. She was not easy prey, at least not with all of her experience.

Hermione mentally went over her checklist: avoid people, obtain food and newspaper and find another place to hide. If all went well, she planned on spending the day learning about where she was and planning her long-term strategy, as well as her next moves.

"This could be it," Hermione thought to herself, walking out the door, though she was significantly more pessimistic now compared to when it all first began. But a new city meant another chance. "Maybe I can finally escape."

Everything had been going to plan, but Hermione figured that, what with her just happening upon a broomstick (and such a _fast_ one) in the woods, she was due for some bad luck. The world did, after all, always find a way to balance itself.

Luckily she managed to snag several bananas, rich with potassium, and wholesome granola bars from a nearby stand before they spotted her.

Whatever device they were holding in their hands, a glass rod about two feet in length, lit up bright green, apparently sensing her magic.

"How innovative," Hermione thought, half sarcastically and half in awe. "Except for the choice of color."

It didn't take long for them to discover the magical path which would lead to Hermione, nor for Hermione to start running.

She immediately ditched the Disillusionment Charm, knowing it would weaken the trace. For a brief moment, Hermione wondered bitterly if magic even helped. At times like this it was more trouble than it was worth.

Losing the charm, of course, didn't work. One of the snatchers, a big bloke with nasty acne scars, spotted Hermione and yelled to his comrades. One quick scan told Hermione that her hunter, Scabior, wasn't with this group. That was somewhat of a relief, unless he was lurking with the other half of his crew nearby. Why oh why did they have to pick this block of all places to search for her?

Hermione, spotting a white van coming towards them, decided to try to create a diversion.

"Hey!" she yelled, waving her arms as she ran in front of the van. "Help me! Please, help me!"

One of the windows rolled down, much to Hermione's relief. However, she did not expect what happened next. A man in a clown mask poked his head out, brandishing a gun at Hermione.

"Look doll, you're gonna have to get out of the street," he shouted.

Hermione didn't know if she was more stunned by the mask or the fact that her cursed luck had led to her what must be the only van full of clown criminals in the city.

A flash of red light barely missed her right ear. Hermione ducked, her senses coming back to her. The man leaning out the window was not as lucky, as he collapsed onto the pavement.

She heard the driver yell as other men clad in clown masks jumped out of the van, firing their guns at the wizards behind Hermione.

"It's not something you see every day, but I suppose this is working out surprisingly well," thought Hermione as she resumed sprinting.

"Hey!" one of the clowns called back to her. A green beam permanently silenced him.

Hermione could hear the gunshots and yells as she focused on losing herself in the ensuing crowd. As far as she knew, the snatchers didn't have much experience with guns. She could only wish that some of them had been shot, hopefully fatally. Again, Hermione couldn't believe she was thinking that, but these were awful men. She made her way down a narrow alley, sprinting the entire time. Her endurance had improved a lot in the past several weeks. Once she had put a significant distance between her and the snatchers, at least several blocks, Hermione Disillusioned herself again as she searched for a temporary place to hide, preferably with food, newspapers or both.

She spotted a cafe that seemed to fit the bill and rushed inside, brushing against a man in a purple suit on her way. Hermione almost stopped to apologize, but then remembered he couldn't see her.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione thought to herself. "I just have to get off these streets."

She hurried inside the cafe, not paying the man, or the clown mask he was holding, any attention. Once she reached the back corner, she lifted the Charm and plopped into a comfortable, cushiony chair. She hoped that by the time the snatchers made their way to this street, if they ever did, her traces of magic would have long since dissipated.

Thankfully there were a couple of newspapers on her table. Hermione grabbed one and began reading the headline on the front page: Crime in Gotham City Falls as Batman Continues His Vigilante Crusade.

"Gotham City? Batman?" Hermione wondered to herself. "Where in Merlin's beard am I?"

* * *

><p>The Joker stood on the corner of a busy intersection, though no one seemed to notice him. He scoffed at the simple hive-mindedness of the citizens of Gotham, rushing to their 8 to 5 jobs like ants on a hill. <em>Malleable<em> ants. Glancing at the watch on his left wrist, his right hand holding a mask, he tapped his foot impatiently. It was half past eight.

"Come on, come on, come on," he muttered. "Eight o'clock…is it really so _hard_?"

He felt someone bump into his right side and whipped around. There was no one to be seen.

"Huh," he thought to himself, his eyes shifting from one side to the other. "That's, uh, strange…"

He then noticed, in the corner of his eye, the door to a cafe further down the block open ever so slightly, all seemingly on its own.

"Hmm," he murmured, his eyes glued to the door.

The Joker wasn't one to bail out on his own plan, but his employees were being quite unreliable, to say the least, at the moment. Fortunately, there was no need for him to exact any punishment - he had preemptively arranged for all that. No, this current situation, these strange, yet _subtle_ events peaked his interest enough to investigate. It wasn't as if his plans were ever truly set in stone; the Joker liked to improvise. A lot. Besides, he was tired of standing on the street. Someone was bound to spot him, and there were people, well his people, that he was saving his bullets for. Still, a bloodbath on the street was significantly more appealing than robbing a bunch of pathetic gangsters' money.

"I suppose they don't really need _me_ to rob the bank," the Joker giggled to himself. "I'll just be there to take the money!"

So he walked into the cafe, all the while peering around him for the van which never came.

The Joker slid into the first empty chair he saw and took a glance around the cafe. He still wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for. An invisible person? He supposed he would settle for anyone out of the ordinary.

"After all, there's no need to be invisible in a room full of nobodies," the Joker thought to himself as he observed everyone with distaste.

At almost a quarter till nine, the cafe was filled with mundane businessmen and women, standing in line for their morning dose of caffeine. The Joker's hand twitched as he resisted the urge to mow them all down right then and there. No, that simply wouldn't do.

A few old people lurked around too, enjoying their warm drinks as they filled out their crossword puzzles. That left the college students, of which there were only a few - ones that were reviewing their notes before class, others that seemed to be on the end of an all nighter.

In other words, everyone in the cafe seemed to be normal. Too normal. The Joker took another look around the cafe, this time focusing longer on each person.

"Grandpa Joe and his old people puzzle. Banker one. Banker two. Businesswoman, divorced in all likelihood, probably uh a single mother judging by those bags under her eyes. Ugh, kids," the Joker shuddered to himself. "Banker three. College student with a, what's this, Macbook Pro…must go to one of those ah _private_ colleges. College girl with way too many pink accessories. Wonder how those folders would look with her blood all over it. Another grandpa, should probably invest in a casket…"

His eyes then fell upon Hermione.

"Hmm," the Joker murmured, tapping the table with his gloved fingers. "Now why are you all alone in that corner hiding behind a newspaper? Ah, no backpack, _strange_ clothing… You're not uh going to work or class, are you?"

He jumped up and made his way to the back.

The Joker was nearly at Hermione's table when she finally noticed him.

"Oh dear," Hermione initially thought, her mouth stuffed ungracefully with the last of the bananas. "He's upset that I ran into him and didn't apologize."

But then she remembered she had been Disillusioned. So why was he targeting her?

"Well _hello_ beautiful," the Joker grinned as he slid next to a very confused Hermione.


	4. Creep

Hermione nervously reached for the nape of her neck, her fingers rubbing the mark. Today was the day.

After Voldemort had curtly explained the rules, Hermione had been escorted back to her cell by Malfoy, who was waiting outside.

Just as Hermione had guessed, this was a ploy to lure her friends and the Order. While the snatchers may have certainly been growing restless, Hermione was more than just entertainment and training. She was bait. She represented the failure of the Light, a demoralizing blow dangling in front of everyone's eyes. The Daily Prophet had come not long after her meeting with Voldemort to snap a few photos of her in her uniform. They didn't interview her, but Hermione was sure an interview was going to appear in the paper anyway. What could she do now against slander? She only hoped her friends didn't believe what they read.

Hermione rolled her wand back and forth across her palm. It was certainly nice having it back.

But she wasn't entirely free. Voldemort had informed Hermione what that tattoo was - namely a mark specifically designed for her, for the hunt. Unlike the Dark Mark, though, she could not summon Voldemort with it; he could only summon her like a common slave. Hermione hated it more than anything. She wasn't sure if she would ever be rid of it.

Of course, Voldemort would only have to summon her under two circumstances, the first being if she was able to successfully elude capture from Scabior and his crew for a week. Hermione was determined to test those boundaries; if others with the Dark Mark could resist his summoning, so would she. The other situation was not as pleasant. If her friends did indeed find her, Voldemort would use Hermione's mark to track them down and kill everyone.

In other words, Hermione would not be returning to Harry and Ron.

It was heartbreaking news at first, but Hermione slowly came to terms with it. She could always help the Order in her own way, and the mark wasn't necessarily permanent.

"First things first," thought Hermione. "Focus on surviving the hunt. Afterwards you can do research on getting rid of this awful mark."

It wasn't as if Hermione could do much research without books anyway. It was all about perspective. If Hermione could outsmart the snatchers and then Voldemort himself, if the Light won the war, then all would be fine. She just had to prioritize, and right now the present was the most eminent threat.

She looked up at the clock and then back at the goblet in front of her, her portkey. Four and a half more minutes.

She was surprised when Voldemort told her that she was allowed to kill any witch or wizard in the hunt as well. Not that Hermione knew how to really kill anyone, but it certainly gave her an even playing field.

"But that's not why," Hermione thought glumly to herself. "I suppose anyone who is weak enough to be killed by my me isn't worthy enough to fight for Voldemort."

These were only lowly snatchers, and Voldemort knew that Hermione wasn't exactly a killer.

"No more negative thoughts," Hermione told herself, glancing back at the clock.

Three minutes still? Time sure was crawling by.

She could hear Malfoy fidgeting to her right. He was also nervous, probably because if Hermione didn't take this portkey on time, he would be in a heap of trouble.

Thankfully Voldemort wasn't here to see her off, though Hermione supposed he was too important to say good-bye to her, however tauntingly. She was grateful for that. In all likelihood, he was giving a motivational speech to the snatchers anyway. Or death threats. She supposed that for Voldemort the two were one and the same.

The snatchers…

Hermione shuddered at the memory of Scabior leering at her. Something told Hermione that his number one goal was not to kill Hermione. And that wasn't against the rules.

So long as no one fell for the trap, so long as Hermione could outsmart them and escape, everything would be good. But that was a very idealistic thought.

At one minute, Hermione felt a light tap on her shoulder.

"The portkey," Malfoy hissed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and wrapped her hand around the goblet, waving it in front of Malfoy. He scowled at her, but something in his facial expression was amiss. It was as if the cruelty didn't fully reach his eyes.

With only half a minute to go, Hermione turned back to the clock and braced herself. What if she was immediately surrounded? No, that would only be entertaining for half a minute. Right?

"Remember," Hermione thought. "Don't stay put. Keep moving and stay alert. _Find a way out_."

In the last few moments, Hermione closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. She jumped at the feel of a warm breath on her right shoulder.

"Don't trust anyone," she thought she heard. But Hermione couldn't be sure that was what he said. It was barely a whisper. And why would Malfoy tell her that? To throw her off?

Twisting around to ask him what he meant, Hermione only managed to catch one last glimpse of him - why did he look so _scared_? - before the portkey swept her away.

It took several moments for Hermione to take in her surroundings.

The entire world blinded her; Hermione lifted her arm over her eyes to block out the piercing glare. It was as if she stood in a sea of white. The biting cold overwhelmed her, and she rubbed her arms, shivering.

"Oh are you or are you not a witch?" Hermione thought furiously, finally remembering she had a wand.

Wordlessly casting a spell to shield her from the cold, Hermione was pleased to see her magic was as strong as ever. The frost pinching her ears melted away, and she felt the familiar tingling sensation in her fingers from warming up. Looking around, she was also relieved to find herself utterly alone, except for the snow that seemed to devour the landscape. Hermione hadn't a clue where she was, for the snow covered absolutely everything.

The snow. Pure, white powder. It brought back memories of another time, a time where Hermione would be throwing snowballs at Harry, while Ron defended himself against Fred and George, undoubtedly trying out another invention. Hermione had loved snow her entire life.

"You can't think about that," Hermione said aloud.

"Who are you talking to?" a voice interrupted her from behind.

Hermione jumped, startled by the intruder. Turning around, she held her wand out.

"_Justin_?" Hermione gasped in surprise. She looked around her, confused. She was certain she hadn't seen anyone. "Where did you come from?"

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. She lowered her wand, shocked to find Justin Finch-Fletchley, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, standing before her. He looked, however, much different from the last time Hermione had seen him. His brown hair was grown out and disheveled, his clothes tattered rags. There were dark shadows underneath his eyes, and his cheeks were hollow. Too hollow.

"Granger," he nodded coolly. Then, after a short pause, "Disillusionment Charm."

Something was off. This wasn't the same Justin she remembered from Hogwarts, the one who had joined the D.A. and supported Harry. This Justin was haggard, tired and, quite frankly, appeared to be half mental.

And he still hadn't lowered his wand.

"What are you-?" Hermione began, confused by his hostile attitude. "It's me, Hermione! We had Herbology together second year, remember? For Merlin's sake, we're on the same side!"

His arm never wavering, Justin continued to point his wand at Hermione. She yearned to raise her wand back up in defense, but something told Hermione that if she so much as flinched, Justin wouldn't hesitate to curse her.

All of a sudden, Hermione wasn't sure if she was ready to go back into the world, if this was how much it had changed. What on earth were Harry and Ron experiencing?

"Are we on the same side?" Justin narrowed his eyes, as he began to circle her. "Last time I heard, you had turned your cloak."

Justin really had gone mad. Hermione hadn't seen him at Malfoy Manor, but he had obviously been brainwashed. And by the looks of it, he hadn't gotten nearly as many meals as Hermione had. Justin was a skeleton of his former self.

"W-what?" she stammered. "Turned my cloak? Justin, I'm a muggle-born, like you! Of course I haven't."

Surely he would listen to reason. But instead of lowering his wand, Justin pulled out a crumpled newspaper with his other hand and thrust it at Hermione.

"You deny this?" Justin spat.

Trembling, Hermione had no choice but to pick up the soggy paper. Sure enough, it was the Daily Prophet. She didn't have to open it up to find what Justin was referring to, for the front headline read: Hermione Granger Betrays Potter and Joins Voldemort's Cause.

Hermione's eyes swept over the words several times before she was able to process what she said. Her hands shaking, she began to read the article.

_Hermione Granger, former best friend of Harry Potter who was known as the brains of the Golden Trio, has finally come to her senses, claiming in her exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet that she has renounced her ties with the Order of the Phoenix. Undoubtedly a devastating blow, Granger's confession caught many by surprise. However, when apprehended a couple of months ago, Granger immediately expressed an interest in joining Voldemort's cause._

_"I knew from the beginning that it was hopeless for Harry," Granger said. "He had absolutely no clue what he was doing. I mean, if you can't beat them, join them!"_

_Although Granger is a well-known mudblood, she says she won't let that stop her from pursuing her goal of supporting Voldemort._

_"I obviously do know my place in society," Granger said. "But I can still help. I wasn't called the brains of the Trio for nothing!"_

Nauseous, Hermione stopped reading. A picture of herself in her black uniform accompanied the article. The Daily Prophet had doctored the photo to make it appear as if Hermione was sneering, her arms crossed. She looked like a female version of Malfoy. Malfoy… Is this what he meant when he had said not to trust anyone? He must of known. Still, Hermione didn't understand why he warned her, if that indeed was his intention.

So Hermione had been entirely wrong about everything… Voldemort knew that nothing could be more demoralizing than one of the Golden Trio betraying Harry Potter. Hermione felt stupid for not having thought of it herself. Of course she was more valuable than bait. Voldemort didn't have to capture and kill her friends when she was killing their morale all on her own.

"This-this is rubbish," Hermione choked out, pleading. "You should know me better than that, Justin."

"Do I?" Justin retorted. "People change. You know, I couldn't believe it at first either. But then I find you out here in that…that uniform. The ones that all the snatchers wear."

That explained their choice in clothing. It all made sense now. Hermione was thrown out here clueless, dressed like a snatcher. She could see how that looked incriminating, Hermione in the outfit of snatchers, while Justin's clothes were filled with holes. But surely he could be convinced otherwise.

"I haven't a band around my arm," Hermione protested, raising both arms. She proceeded to lift up her arm sleeves. "And look - no Dark Mark."

Justin looked at both pieces of evidence with doubt. He paused, thinking about what Hermione had said. Justin had always been intelligent. Hermione hoped that he would see her logic.

"I'm sure a witch as clever as you could find a way to conceal it," Justin replied, but his voice seemed unsure. As he continued circling around her, Hermione suddenly noticed a similar mark on the back of his neck as well, the number five.

"But look!" Hermione exclaimed. "I've got a mark like yours."

She lifted her ponytail up for Justin to see. There was no way she could have come up with that while Justin had been watching her like a hawk. He had to believe her now.

Hesitating, Justin lowered his wand slightly.

"So _you're_ number one," Justin said, as if all the pieces finally fell together. He looked thoughtfully at Hermione. "Well, that was smart of them."

"Yes, they're absolutely wonderful," Hermione rolled her eyes. Then, seeing Justin's suspicious glare again, "Joking! Now that we've sorted that all out, do you mind lowering your wand?"

Justin cocked his head to the side.

"Lower my wand?" Justin asked, confused. "Why would I do that?"

Hermione didn't have a good feeling about this.

"Because we're on the same side," Hermione said slowly, as if she were explaining simple arithmetic to a first year. "We need to work together of course to figure out how to escape."

The corners of Justin's mouth curled up slowly.

"Escape?" Justin gave a short, bitter laugh. He shook his head and sighed. "You really don't know, do you? You're acting like this is your first hunt. Like they never explained the rules."

But Voldemort had explained the rules to her, or so she had thought. And what did Justin mean by _first_ hunt?

"First hunt?" Hermione replied, now the confused one. "You mean, this isn't your first time…"

Justin's eyes lit up as he proudly showed off his left forearm to Hermione. She looked in horror at the two black stripes that marred his skin. The marks on the back of their necks was bad enough. She couldn't imagine receiving extra trophy marks.

"This is my third," Justin said arrogantly. "But I've never killed a number before."

"A…a number?" Hermione asked weakly. "What do you mean?"

Trying to distract Justin, Hermione couldn't let him have the upper-hand anymore. He obviously wasn't willing to work with her and his aggressive attitude was more than ominous. Her right hand grasping her wand tightly, Hermione raised her wand as quickly as she could to shoot a Stunning Spell at Justin.

But Justin saw it coming and easily Disarmed Hermione, her wand flying helplessly into the snow.

"Not getting caught is how you survive a hunt," Justin smirked. "But they'll just put you in another one after that. If you want to be free, you have to win. Killing another player…_that's_ how you win."


	5. Bullet Proof, I Wish I Was

The Joker knew that this was no ordinary girl when her eyes narrowed in suspicion, instead of widening in fear. His keen observation skills picked up on the faint, pink scratches on her cheeks, and the tears in her black shirt. He even noticed the cloak hanging off the back of her chair - an interesting wardrobe indeed. But before he could make out the tattoo on the back of her neck, she shifted to the side, her body facing towards him.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely, her voice tinged with frost.

"Ah, an _En_-glish accent," the Joker thought gleefully to himself. So she wasn't going to fess up. The Joker supposed he couldn't exactly prove that she was the invisible force that had run into her, but he knew, without a doubt, that it was her.

"You're not uh from here, are you?" the Joker leaned in, whispering.

Hermione continued to eye at him warily, unsure if he was an Imperiused muggle. Of course, he looked so strange with his green hair, painted face and purple suit that Hermione wasn't entirely convinced he was a muggle. Under the table, her right hand grasped her wand in anticipation.

"You look hungry," the Joker went on, as if he didn't notice her unease. "Why don't I uh buy you an omelette?"

Hermione debated denying him, but her stomach answered for her as it grumbled in betrayal. The Joker grinned and whistled with two fingers. To be honest, he was quite hungry himself. Now that he thought about it, the Joker couldn't remember the last real meal he had sat down and eaten - he couldn't be bothered with trivial matters like that. He just snacked whenever he wanted.

An irritated barista started towards them.

"Look mister, you can order at the-" the barista began, but then stopped upon seeing the Joker's scars. "O-oh."

"Two ham omelets with _all_ the fixings," the Joker licked his lips. The barista nodded quickly and scampered away. Ah, yes _that_ was the usual reaction.

"So what's a girl like uh you doing in Gotham?" the Joker turned back to Hermione. She eased her wand back up her sleeve, mollified for the time being that he wasn't a threat. Hermione could easily defend herself against a muggle, even one as crazy as this man.

"You don't know that he's crazy," Hermione scolded herself. "He just offered to buy you breakfast, after all."

That was preferred to stealing in Hermione's book. She was glad to be rid of the internal debate of going hungry or using magic.

"I just flew in on a whim," Hermione answered, mentally slapping herself for coming up with such a lame reason. In her defense, she couldn't remember the last time she had a proper conversation. This was going to take some practice.

"What, by your_self_?" the Joker pressed. The girl looked to be in her teens. Something was missing here. Oh, right. "What about your uh parents?"

Upon hearing that last word, Hermione's eyes teared up against her will. She knew nothing about her parents - if they were alive, where they would be. But in her heart, Hermione could feel that they were out there somewhere. The last memory she had was of the three of them having dinner at home. The Death Eaters had questioned Hermione about them, of course, undoubtedly wanting to use her parents against her to extract information. Hermione was therefore grateful, she supposed, that she didn't know anything. Her parents could be anywhere right now, living life contently. And though she missed them so much that she cried herself to sleep most nights, it wasn't safe for her to know their location. She would see them again eventually, in this world or the next.

"I, um, don't have any," Hermione managed to reply. At the moment, she really didn't. Before the Joker could push the matter, she changed the subject. "You're from around here?"

"Oh, I know Gotham uh _very_ well," the Joker grinned. He didn't elaborate any further. Now what was so strange about seeing a teen in a cafe at this time again? Ah, right. "Shouldn't a girl your age uh be in school?"

Hermione wracked her brain again for a better answer this time. Fortunately the barista returned with their omelets, hastily dropping them onto the table before dashing away again.

"Now _that's_ getting annoying," the Joker thought to himself as he glared at the barista, his right hand playing with his swiss knife. "Maybe she wants to know how I got these scars..."

He looked back at Hermione for her answer, but she was digging into her omelet like a child gobbling up her Halloween candy. Hermione caught the Joker staring at her, tapping his foot impatiently, and swallowed her bite. What could she say? It was nice eating a warm meal for a change. And all her manners had gone straight out the window when he had caught her stuffing her mouth.

"I graduated," she shrugged. She was in the middle of her seventh year anyway, so Hermione could pass as a graduate.

At the thought of school, Hermione felt another stab of pain, thinking about how her seventh year should have been. No, it wasn't healthy, having nostalgic thoughts like that.

"You uh miss it?" the Joker guessed, reading Hermione's face. She was hiding something now, wasn't she…

"What?" Hermione snapped back to reality. "Oh, well, yes I suppose."

But before the Joker had time to follow up with another question, Hermione jumped up out of her seat with her wand out.

Standing outside the cafe window, with a menacing glare, was none other than a very pissed off Scabior, wand at the ready.

The Joker tilted his head to the side in confusion at Hermione's reaction. Then the legs of his chair suddenly blew off, and the Joker found himself being tackled to the ground by Hermione, who shot off a Stunning Spell towards Scabior. She knew it wouldn't hit him, but she needed to buy some time.

"Don't you think you're taking this uh a bit fast?" the Joker burst into laughter as he looked up at her playfully.

Hermione ignored his comment. With the two of them behind the counter, they were temporarily safe from the incoming spells, which sent dishes and cups flying everywhere. Not everyone else was as lucky, especially the barista behind the register who didn't react quickly enough. Her lifeless body slumped to the ground between the Joker and Hermione. But Hermione couldn't help but feel relieved they had the counter to themselves; muggle bystanders tended to scream an awful lot, which made it difficult to concentrate. Hermione could now hear their terrifying cries and yells as Scabior killed them one by one, the green light bright enough to fill the entire cafe. Hermione threw back a couple of jinxes, hoping it would hold Scabior off until she could come up with a plan. Cornered in the cafe, though, Hermione wasn't entirely sure how they would escape.

Watching the debris fly in the air, the Joker could feel something was off. It then dawned on him that he couldn't hear the loud, familiar popping noise that came with guns. A sound he liked _very_ much.

Hermione crouched on the tip of her toes. She carefully raised her head to peek over the register, only to have a spell whiz over her. She immediately sat back down, panting. She didn't see any other exits besides the front door. Hermione hadn't explored the city enough to have anywhere to Apparate to, except for the house she had camped in at last night. But Hermione was certain that the snatchers had already found it, given how close they were to her this morning. She'd learned from a previous hunt not to go back to anywhere she had stayed before. Unfortunately for Hermione, that left no other options.

"Come out love," Scabior taunted loudly. "And I promise not to hurt your boyfriend."

Hermione knew Scabior wasn't going to take well to her having breakfast with another man, not that it was a usual occurrence. In fact, she'd never done it before. She only hoped he would make a mistake in his anger.

"Boyfriend?" the Joker mouthed to Hermione, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Hermione shook her head in response.

The Joker whipped out an automatic pistol and stood up, pushing his stringy green hair out of his eyes. He'd had enough of this man taking down the very people he had imagined slaying only half an hour earlier. Especially the barista whose glazed eyes stared up at him. It just wasn't fair. _He_ was supposed to instill fear in those people, not this pathetic, jealous man.

"We're uh only on our first date," the Joker replied, smacking his lips. "And what are you? The _evil_ ex-boyfriend?"

And with that, the Joker sprayed Scabior with bullets, laughing all the while at his joke. Several rounds later, he realized that a curious transparent blue light was shielding the man, deflecting all of his bullets.

"My turn," Scabior snarled, as the Joker crouched back down, out of ammo. A slew of curses rained over them, mostly destroying the wall behind them and the tiled floor.

"Now that's _really_ not fair," the Joker growled. This man was obviously the same sort as invisible girl here.

"Bollocks, he knows now doesn't he?" Hermione sighed. She was hoping at least one of the bullets would hit Scabior, but he had definitely learned from that morning.

"Knows what?" the Joker asked, confused. Then, winking, "About us?"

"Never mind," Hermione said. Thinking aloud to herself, "How do we get out of here?"

"Uh, how about through the front?" the Joker grinned. He had some grenades handy, as always. You never knew when you needed a quick escape. He grabbed one, yanked out the pin with his teeth and tossed it over the counter. "We'll just _blow_ our way out of here and into any one of those vee-hi-cles parked out there. I did see a uh 18-wheeler. They're the best - you can crash into _anything_."

Hermione had only enough time to crouch into the fetal position before the grenade went off. The explosion shook the entire ground, blowing out the remaining windows and splattering the walls and floor in blood and bits of bone. If there had been any survivors out there, they were surely dead now. The smell nauseated Hermione, but she didn't have time to dwell on that. She waved her wand, and the ringing in their ears disappeared.

"Very clever," Scabior called out as he started towards them. He was a lot closer than either of them had anticipated. "Now what kind of contraption is that, love?"

The Joker's gleeful face fell as he heard Scabior's voice. Hermione, too, was disappointed, but for a different reason.

"Could you drive it without a key?" Hermione asked hurriedly. The crunching of boots on glass was growing louder.

The Joker waved his swiss army knife at Hermione, licking his lips. Did this girl have a trick up her sleeve, too?

"Okay then," Hermione took a deep breath, reaching out to the Joker. "Grab my hand."

* * *

><p>The explosion caught Scabior by surprise. First he lost nearly half of his men to those barbaric muggle weapons, and now this?<p>

He had seen the pear shaped ball fly over the counter and roll to the front of the cafe, but he was already a few steps away from the counter, where his lovely was hiding. Now this was too easy. He had cornered her before, but never this early in the game. His blood pumped in excitement.

"She's got nowhere to go," Scabior thought darkly.

And then, out of nowhere, he was thrown to the ground by some powerful, hot wind, cutting his hands on the broken glass on the floor. He could feel blood trickling down his face as well. That cheeky mudblood!

"Very clever," he called out to Hermione to let her know that he was fine. But that she wouldn't be. "Now what kind of contraption is that, love?"

He got up and continued towards her, his wand out and teeth bared. He wasn't going to let her get away this time. Scabior was going to try out some new curses on her muggle boyfriend - how did she meet him anyway? where did he come from? - and then he was going to have some _real_ fun with Hermione.

His ears still ringing, Scabior didn't hear the familiar pop of Apparition.

"I've got you, beautiful," he said softly.

But when he turned around the corner, Hermione and the Joker were nowhere to be seen.

Scabior blinked a few times, not believing the sight in front of him. His knuckles grew white as he tightened the grip on his wand.

Yelling in frustration, Scabior destroyed the rest of the cafe in his fury, sending curses everywhere, even though the rest of the cafe's patrons were already dead. So she Disapparated, eh? His men were outside the house she had stayed in the night before. And she was supposed to be smart. They would surely find her.

"You'll regret this love," Scabior promised.

As he walked out of the fiery, crumbling ruins of what used to be a half-decent cafe, Scabior did not notice a blue 18-wheeler speeding away.

* * *

><p>What. A. Morning.<p>

And here the Joker had been planning on robbing a _bank_. Oh how horribly boring that would have been compared to what had just happened.

Letting out a maniacal laugh, the Joker slammed his hands onto the steering wheel. This was so much _fun_. And he had finally found a challenge in the bulletproof man. No, he still wasn't any _Bat_man, but those plans could wait… After all, what would happen if Batman was killed by a bunch of bullet deflecting cheats? No, that simply would _not_ do.

He looked at the girl sitting next to him. He had a feeling that the fun had just begun.

"What are you laughing about?" Hermione asked, a quizzical expression on her face.

Such a cu-_tie_-pie.

"You know what," the Joker turned to her, not at all concerned about the other cars honking at him as he swerved recklessly. "I just uh realized, I've got to drop by the bank."

"What, _now_?" Hermione asked, unperturbed by the Joker's antics.

She could always stop them from crashing, but she couldn't stop Scabior and his crew from finding them at the bank, if they were looking for her there. It wasn't safe being out in the open.

"There's ah no time like the present," the Joker licked his lips, as he switched into the right lane, forcing an older gentleman in a BMW to slam on his brakes. Oh how he loved driving. "Now tell me… how did you uh teleport? I want a real answer, none of that uh 'flying on a whim.' One minute we were back there and bam! The next we were _here_. You know, even to a guy like me, that's a hell of a magic trick."

Hermione's cheeks reddened, realizing she hadn't fooled him for a moment. She didn't ask him what the other off-handed comments meant. Hermione kind of took it for granted that this man had strange mannerisms and said weird things. It wasn't as if the average muggle carried around a gun and grenades. Sure, Hermione supposed he had to be some kind of criminal, but she was technically running from the authorities, too. And it wasn't as if the muggle police were going to be much help. Only someone half sane like him would experience Side Along Apparition and not be absolutely terrified. Their…camaraderie, for lack of a better word, was mutual beneficial. At least for now.

"If you take out the 'trick,' you've got your answer," Hermione quipped.

She couldn't believe she was actually telling him she was a witch, though she supposed no harm could come from it. If he didn't believe her, that was fine. And if they were going to work together, which Hermione was still debating, he was going to have to know the truth. All the excuses in the world couldn't explain Apparition, and she didn't fancy modifying his memory every time, which would undoubtedly cause permanent damage.

The Joker eyed Hermione doubtfully.

"So what does that uh make _you_?" he said. "A witch?"

He was certainly catching on quickly. Hermione nodded, showing him her wand.

"How _in_-ter-es-ting," the Joker said, pulling up to the bank. So she was a witch, who could turn invisible and teleport. What else was she capable of?

The Joker's thoughts shifted as he looked at the scene before him. Well, at least the school bus had shown up. Unfortunately, so had the police. It looked like their morning escapade had taken a lot longer than he thought, or else the bus driver got the time wrong. And the Joker knew just how un_reliable_ people were.

Hermione held her wand tightly, looking around them anxiously. Good, there were no snatchers in sight. Chances were they were looking for her back at the abandoned house. In any case, it was better being safe than sorry.

The Joker rolled down Hermione's window and called to a cop standing nearby.

"What's the uh hold up?" he asked, knowing full well this cop was a nobody. He was the sort that kept bystanders off the crime scene, but didn't do any of the actual investigating.

Just as he thought, the cop didn't know anything.

"What does it look like? Some idiot drove a school bus into the bank. Now move along," the cop snapped, not so much as glancing at the Joker. "I don't know how a guy like that ever passed his driving test."

The Joker was sure Lieutenant _Gordon_ was smarter than that. Anyone could tell this was an attempted robbery.

Attempted. The Joker really didn't like it when _his _plans didn't come to fruition. Oh well, he'd save it for another morning, if the world ever went back to being boring, which he hoped not.

"Well that was a bust," the Joker grumbled to himself. He sped off as the cop yelled after him. "The van never showed up at _all_?"

It looked like he'd have to find money elsewhere, or just steal whatever they needed. Hm, perhaps the witch could help.

"Van?" Hermione repeated, something clicking in her mind. She stared at the Joker's make-up. Now that she thought about it, it couldn't be a mere coincidence that she ran into a bunch of clown criminals in the morning, only to meet a man wearing clown make-up afterwards. "You mean a van full of men holding guns and wearing clown masks?"'

The Joker didn't realize he had been thinking out loud.

"You uh, wouldn't happen to have _seen_ one now would you?" the Joker peered at Hermione.

_She_ was the reason for their delay, although they never did show up. Hmm. Goldilocks, well bru_nette_ locks, here didn't seem like the type to slaughter five men, unless maybe they had provoked her. Did she even have it in her to kill? The Joker didn't know, but he was sure keen to find out.

"As a matter of fact, I did," Hermione replied sardonically. "I may be a witch, but I'm well aware that people like you don't normally tote around guns and bombs unless they're the police or criminals. And you're obviously not the former. I am also not foolish enough to believe that the bus driver simply happened to run into a bank. That was a planned robbery - _your _plan."

The Joker grinned. Not only was this witch talented and unusual - she was what others would call a _freak_ - but she was intelligent, too. He was beginning to like her.

"Which puts you ahead of the curve of those _cops_ back there," the Joker smacked his lips. "But what would a girl like _you_ want to do with a criminal like _me_?"

That was the million Galleon question.

"All I know is that I'm stuck in a city called Gotham in the United States," Hermione said, exasperated. As to what that meant for the war back home, Hermione wasn't sure. She hadn't had a single moment thus far to think about that, and this certainly wasn't the right time. Remember, priorities. "If you haven't noticed, I haven't been doing very well on my own. But you apparently know this place and can help me."

Now the Joker wasn't sure how someone like her, with teleporting abilities, could be stuck anywhere. He'd find that out soon.

"And _why_ should I help you?" the Joker raised an eyebrow, teasing her.

Hermione wasn't fooled.

"Two reasons," Hermione replied, smiling at the Joker. "One, you're obviously intrigued by me, which is why you approached me in that cafe. Which leads to two - Scabior's seen you, so he's going to be hunting you, too. Whether you like it or not, you've been dragged into this."

He did like it. A lot.

"Well, well, well," the Joker leered at Hermione. "Of all the bad guys in Gotham, you picked _me_."

"Don't flatter yourself," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't really have a choice."

"Ooh, you _are_ cold," the Joker said, his expression hurt. He then slammed on the brakes and put the 18-wheeler in park, leaving the engine on. "Well, Here. We. Are!"

Hermione was so engrossed in their conversation, she hadn't been paying attention to their surroundings. She cursed herself mentally for letting her guard down. Just because she hadn't talked to anyone in awhile, and snatchers definitely did not count, didn't mean she could let her senses become clouded.

Though, even if she had been paying attention, Hermione still wouldn't have any idea where they were.

"And where are we exactly?" Hermione asked.

Everything in Gotham was so drab and dreary, Hermione couldn't tell one shabby building from the next.

"You know," the Joker turned to Hermione. "I want to know more about uh what's-his-name from the cafe, about this whole _situation_ we've got on our hands, but I don't want to uh make you say it twice."

"Twice?" Hermione asked, confused. Were they meeting someone here?

"That and we _are_ already late to the meeting," the Joker replied as he hopped out of the 18-wheeler.

Wait, what meeting?

Waltzing around to Hermione's side, the Joker opened her door in a dramatic fashion, holding his arm out like a gentleman.

"You see, I'm not the _on_ly criminal in Gotham," the Joker winked at Hermione, offering a hand to her. "I'm just of a _better class_."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, she's not here?" Scabior yelled furiously, kicking the sleeping bag across the floor.<p>

Scabior had Disapparated from the cafe moments after he had finished destroying it, though he did also cover his tracks, only to find that the mudblood wasn't back at the house.

Surely she had Apparated here. She could only have Apparated to places she'd been to, so where else? Unless there was someplace they were missing.

"We've had this place surrounded, not to mention the whole block," Fenrir Greyback growled back at Scabior. He, too, was frustrated by Hermione's escape, but knew she hadn't have come by. "We would have detected her magic."

"Half of our lot couldn't even handle four bloody muggles, and you're going to tell me there's no way she slipped through?" Scabior gritted his teeth.

This was an unusually poor hunt. First, the girl managed to elude them in the woods, somehow arriving in the city before them. She could only have done that by either Apparating or flying. Scabior was convinced someone must have helped her. But who? Then, five of his men were killed. Five! He had never even lost one man in the previous hunts, much less five.

But he wasn't going to ask the Dark Lord for more men, not when he had lost them the way he did.

Even with what he had left, Scabior would find her and make her pay. Her and that man she was with.

"Those muggles caught us unawares," Greyback narrowed his eyes.

The memory, still quite fresh in their minds, boiled their blood.

Indeed, they had no prior experience with those weapons before this morning. The unlucky ones were immediately taken down, while the more skilled fighters were quick to put up shields. Luckily for them, the shields did work. Also, they found it was easy to heal the wounds, except of course you had to be alive for that to work. Those who had been riddled with holes had died almost immediately. At least they learned that much.

"Those weren't just any muggles," Scabior said slowly, a realization dawning on him.

"What do you mean?" Greyback asked.

There was something about this city that Scabior mistrusted. Normally he and his crew were the only bad news around, but it would seem that the muggles here were quite troublesome, too. Especially that man Hermione was with.

"Tell me Greyback," Scabior said. "What sort of muggles carry around weapons like those?"

"Not the good kind," Greyback chuckled darkly, catching on.

Scabior had caught him up to speed with what had happened at the cafe. Greyback was smart enough to not comment on Scabior's failure, even though Scabior was criticizing them. One day, though, Greyback hoped to overthrow him as leader.

"Exactly," Scabior grinned. "If we're going to find her, we're going to have to start questioning some of the muggles around here. The bad ones."

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne's stomach rumbled at the aroma of french beef dip sandwich with au jus sauce. He sat up eagerly, as Alfred brought out his meal with a vintage Bordeaux Merlot and a bottle of Perrier.<p>

"Lunch is served, Master Wayne," Alfred bowed, setting the silver tray on the dining table.

Bruce didn't know what he would do without Alfred.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce nodded.

Though it was lunchtime, this was Bruce's first meal of the day. He had slept in; last night had been both rough and fruitful. Bruce, as usual, single-handedly apprehended Scarecrow, his accomplices and a few wannabe Batmans. There had been vicious dogs, too, Bruce recalled, wincing as he felt the bruises.

But at the thought of the fake Batmans, Bruce frowned. These men were putting their lives, as well as others, at risk. He wasn't supposed to inspire other vigilantes. Quite the contrary, Bruce just wanted to prove that there were good people in this town, like Harvey Dent. Bruce did his duty of cleaning the city so that actual decent heroes, like Harvey, could rise up in Gotham.

It cheered Bruce up, knowing a man like Harvey was helping the people of Gotham.

His optimism, however, was short-lived when he turned on the television to watch the news.

_A gas explosion killed at least eight people this morning at local cafe Cobblepot. Authorities are still investigating the cause and determining the total number of casualties, but it is highly unlikely that anyone survived._

Bruce remembered that cafe fondly. He had stopped by many times for a cup of joe. It was one of the only decent cafes in town. What a shame.

The footage of the cafe was gruesome, with blood and body parts strewn everywhere. All of a sudden, lunch didn't seem as appetizing.

Just as he was about to change the channel, something caught Bruce's eye. The screen had switched to show the inside of the cafe, specifically the area behind what used to be the counter. And there, in the corner, was a card.

A Joker.


	6. Knives Out

"Incarcerous," Justin shouted as Hermione dove into the snow.

Justin's spell missed Hermione, but she landed right beside her wand. Perfect. She grabbed it in one fell swoop and flipped over onto her back.

"Stupefy!" she yelled back.

Justin dodged the red beam, as Hermione scrambled to her feet. She quickly conjured a Shield, deflecting Justin's next hex.

"Don't do this," Hermione warned Justin. The two of them circled each other. She was desperate to reason him out of this. "We could work together."

But Justin was far beyond that.

"We don't stand a chance against them," Justin snarled. "Killing you is the only way. _Avada Kedavra_!"

Hermione was so shocked that Justin was able to cast the Killing Curse, she almost forgot to get out of the way. There was no denying it; Justin truly had changed.

The hunt had changed him.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione shot back. She couldn't feel guilty now, not when he was trying to kill her. "Petrificus totalus!"

The first spell narrowly missed Justin. He didn't cast a Shield Charm quickly enough to avoid the second. Justin stiffened up like a board and collapsed unceremoniously into the snow.

Hermione sat down, too, and slowly controlled her breathing. Her hands were shaking form the encounter. Hermione, who preferred reading books and practicing spells, had never cared for duels. She was no Harry, though her reflexes had more than sufficed just now.

She now had a decision to make, and she had to make it fast. Hermione was torn between casting the Incarcerous Charm and setting Justin free. On the one hand, if he was found by the Snatchers like this, he was as good as dead. But on the other hand, Hermione's life was at risk if she let him go.

Still, he could be lucky if the Snatchers didn't find him, and Hermione would have a long head start. She would make sure never to run into him again.

"If I let you go now, you're bound to attack me again," Hermione said softly. Justin knew she didn't have it in her to kill. That was her weakness.

In the end, Hermione conjured the ropes. For his sake, Hermione hoped the snatchers didn't reach him before the Charm wore off. As this was Hermione's first hunt, though, she couldn't worry about evading both the snatchers and a crazed Justin. That's right; this wasn't even the same Justin Hermione knew. This Justin was very much capable of murder - dark magic.

Hermione couldn't believe that her former classmates were actually killing each other. That was, of course, exactly what Voldemort wanted. This hunt, this sickening game, was turning everyone against each other, slowly but surely. It was hard enough to trust people during the war, and this only worsened that.

Hermione couldn't do it. She wouldn't.

First of all, she wasn't entirely sure she had it in her to kill someone, though she supposed there was a difference between casting the Killing Curse and, well, incapacitating someone so that the snatchers would do the killing instead. But secondly, and most importantly, Hermione had an image to uphold. The Daily Prophet had done some serious damage to her reputation. She couldn't exacerbate matters by killing a friend. Well, acquaintance anyway. Imagine having to explain that to Harry and Ron.

Hermione stood up and vowed silently to never murder in the hunt, no matter how dismal the situation. She would rather die as a heroine, than live long enough to become the villain.

A faint voice interrupted Hermione's reverie.

_Come out lovely._

She could barely make out the words. And the voice, it sounded familiar.

_Come out, come out, wherever you are._

The snatcher. Scabior.

Hermione's heart beat fast and her breathing quickened. He wasn't far. She had to get away, fast.

He would be able to spot her from far away out here in the open, so Hermione Disillusioned herself. At least Justin had taught her that trick.

Then she began to run.

Hermione sprinted as fast as she could, her boots sinking into the thick snow. It was impossible; she could never outrun the snatchers in this.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione conjured a pair of skis and poles. Fortunately, she was quite skilled in cross-country skiing.

It was faster going from there. Scabior's voice faded away eventually, much to Hermione's relief. She skied at top speed, not bothering to cover her tracks. She had to outpace them first.

Hermione eventually happened upon the beginning of a forest. Under the cover of the trees, Hermione Vanished the skis and poles. She made her way into the forest, laboriously erasing the footsteps she left as she once had at Hogwarts while on her way to Hagrid's hut. That felt like lifetimes ago.

After an hour or so of that, Hermione grew tired and gave up. The path she had left ended at the forest; the snatchers would have to canvas the surrounding area beyond it. Surely they wouldn't find her, at least not until the next day, for the sky was beginning to darken.

"Great," Hermione thought glumly as she looked around her. Snow, and more snow. "Now I have to find a place to sleep."

A small part of her missed her cell at Malfoy Manor.

"Stop that," Hermione told herself. She couldn't have weak thoughts like that. "You have to be strong. You have to escape."

Hermione walked around until she found a tall, sturdy tree. It was better than sleeping on the ground, where the snatchers could surround her at any time. From the top of the tree, Hermione could see for kilometers.

Hermione climbed up slowly, scared out of her mind. The branches and trunk were wet and slippery, and Hermione wasn't coordinated enough to get out her wand to dry the wood without falling.

"If Harry managed to duel Voldemort, you can climb a tree," Hermione thought. She could suppress her fear when she changed her perspective. It also helped to concentrate on a task, like surviving. "Just avoid all people and stay Disillusioned."

Hermione made it to the top with relative ease after that and conjured a brown sleeping bag so she would blend in. Hermione applied other camouflaging spells on top of that as well as protective wards. No one would find her tonight.

After drying the particular branch she was going to sleep on, Hermione was somewhat satisfied. For a snowy forest, this wasn't half bad.

* * *

><p>Scabior's catcalling didn't lure the girl out, but he was sure it had scared her off. That was fine. It was all about the chase, and Scabior wanted to have a good hunt this week. The mudblood was supposed to be smart, and she was quite the beauty. Scabior's pulse raced at the thought of capturing her.<p>

He didn't expect to find her the first night, but he was going to catch her sooner or later, especially since he now had a lead.

Scabior tilted his head to the side at the sight in front of him.

"Please," Justin begged. "Please, don't kill me."

Scabior laughed at the boy, who had evaded him and his crew before. This one was a coward, though. He hid from everyone and never dared to venture out and fight the others. He was utterly boring.

Yet here he was, tied up and lying in the snow.

"Didn't manage to hide yourself this time now, did you?" Scabior taunted the boy. "That's no fun, you know."

Justin began to weep, much to Scabior's displeasure. It was pathetic to see a male cry.

"Please," he pleaded. "I can tell you where she went."

Scabior let out a bark of laughter, his crew taking the cue and jeering as well. The boy was useless.

"Her tracks will tell us where she went," he replied. "But you have your use as well."

Greyback stepped forward and grinned at Justin. It had been awhile since he had feasted on human flesh.

Justin recognized the werewolf and realized what Scabior meant.

"No," the boy protested in horror. "No, no, please!"

Justin's pleas quickly turned into agonizing screams. Though Greyback enjoyed it, the shrillness got on Scabior's nerves, so he wordlessly Silenced the boy.

"It's getting dark. We continue searching for her tomorrow," Scabior commanded the rest of the crew.

So the girl didn't have it in her heart to kill. How sweet. She would have to grow thicker skin soon, though, with Scabior hunting her. And he was looking forward to it.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry it took longer to update! I've had a crazy week at work. This chapter conveys Hermione's philosophy as to why she didn't kill. Anyway, I'm not quite sure if I'm going to continue with the flashbacks. It depends on what you guys think. Do you want to see more of Hermione's past with the hunt or just stick with the present? Please do review! I see a lot of readers :-)

C.C: Thanks! I'm hooked too...ON THE JOKER!

Btw, my friend is an artist who LOVES painting the Joker as well as other villains. You should check out her art! .com She's painting the Joker for me (Heath Ledger version of course), and I'm super excited!


	7. Hunting Bears

Scabior spotted the muggle thug with ease from across the street. It would seem that muggle criminals didn't differ so much from the wizarding kind, except in clothing and weapons. This one was walking around the block shadily, guarding a suitcase he was carrying - in all likelihood a delivery. He pulled his hood up to obscure his face, turning his head often in paranoia. Too bad that wouldn't help him.

Waving his hand, Scabior signaled to Greyback to apprehend the muggle. This man was undoubtedly low on the ladder, but he had to work for someone. And Scabior was determined to work his way up until he found the strange man and the mudblood.

"Hey!" the thug yelled as Greyback Disarmed him - sure enough, he was carrying that same muggle weapon - and dragged him off the street into the alley where Scabior was waiting.

After their morning debacle, Scabior had his men scouring the city for muggle criminals, of which there was surely many. Gotham was a dark city. He and Greyback were on their own team. With what they now knew about the muggles, though, this plan would work. None of them were going to be taken by surprise again.

"You're obviously up to no good," Scabior said lightly, prodding the suitcase the man held protectively in his arms. "Who do you work for?"

The thug was not intimidated, though he was wary of running into one of the other mobsters' men, even more so than running into the police. He didn't recognize these two, however, and he knew mostly everyone, for he worked for one of the toughest mob bosses in Gotham, Sal Maroni. This suitcase contained a million dollars from one of Maroni's customers. And, needless to say, Maroni wouldn't be too happy with these two freaks if he didn't get his money.

"What the fuck is this?" the thug spat angrily. "London? Why don't you fuck off and go back to your own damn country?"

Scabior and Greyback exchanged a look. Muggles spoke so barbarically.

But it was kind of fun when they fought back.

"You might want to try that again," Scabior cocked his head to the side. "_Crucio_."

* * *

><p>"Now do that invisible trick of yours," the Joker waved to Hermione as they entered the building from the back.<p>

"Why?" Hermione asked, Disillusioning herself. She didn't like being kept in the dark, but she did enjoy having a plan, something to do.

"You'll know when to show that pretty face of yours," the Joker licked his lips. "These guys think they're _tough_. You have to first show them how _wrong_ they are, if you uh know what I mean."

* * *

><p>"You hear about it? On the news?"<p>

"That wasn't no car accident."

"I drove by it on my way here, cops all over the joint."

"Someone's been tryin' to steal our money!"

"Who would be stupid enough?"

"Who's this john workin' for?"

"Hell if we know. Cops got him."

"He better hope they don't let him out. When I get my hands on him…"

"Enough!" Gambol shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

The mobsters of Gotham were gathered around a couple of makeshift tables pushed together in a rough rectangle. Gambol, Maroni and the Chechen each took a table with their men.

This meeting was supposed to be about Batman capturing the Scarecrow and countless others. After all, the Chechen and some of his men had only narrowly escaped. But the attempted robbery had caught everyone's attention. It was a lot more serious than some rival thugs being locked up.

Like Gambol, Maroni and the Chechen were irritated by the men's incessant chatter, which reminded them of their wives. However, they prized themselves in keeping their cool. They looked at Gambol casually, waiting for the rest of the men to quiet down. As usual, Gambol's outburst struck fear in the other guys.

"It doesn't matter who tried to rob the bank. They're nobody," Maroni shrugged. "The real problem is what the cops are going to do about our money. What Batman is going to do."

A few men grumbled protests. They wanted to know who did it, and they wanted to make them pay. But no one would openly oppose Maroni.

"Where is Lau?" said the Chechen in his thick Russian accent. The Chinese business man, who managed their money, was strangely absent from the meeting, even though he was in Gotham this week.

"He's supposed to be meeting Bruce Wayne today," Maroni rolled his eyes. The playboy billionaire was such a joke. "Some business deal."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Gambol snapped. "Forget about the punk who tried to steal from us?"

"That's right, _tried_ to steal," Maroni turned to Gambol. "So no harm came out of it."

"But now our money is at risk," the Chechen agreed with Maroni. "That is our priority."

* * *

><p>Hermione stood behind the swinging doors with the Joker. She was nervous, though she wasn't sure why.<p>

"They may be criminals, but they're muggles," Hermione reminded herself. She could cast a Shield charm or disarm them faster than they could shoot a gun.

Unfortunately, Hermione didn't have any Extendable Ears with her, but they were able to listen in on the conversation easily. Well, they did have to take out a few guards first. Hermione had Stunned them before the Joker could try anything with his knife; his gun was now useless, as he had used up all his ammo shooting at Scabior. Besides giving Hermione a strange look, he hadn't protested.

"Money," the Joker mumbled, irritated at what he was hearing. "It isn't about _money_. It's about…sending. A. Message."

And with that, Hermione followed him through the doors.

"Ha ha ha ha ha. Ho. Aha. Hee hee. Ha ha ha. Hee. Ha," the Joker breathed in a monotonous gravelly tone. He strolled up to the table. "And I thought _my _jokes were bad."

Hermione trailed behind the Joker and stood by his side anxiously, but of course she was invisible. The mob did, however, see a deranged man wearing make-up and a purple suit. It normally wasn't wise for others to waltz into their private meeting.

"What the hell is this?" Gambol said angrily. He, in particular, did not take well to interruptions. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have my friend here pull your head off."

Hermione made a mental note that the Joker wasn't a friend among thieves. Every man here seemed to be part of a crew, whereas the Joker was a one man act. The clown men from the van were tied to him, but Hermione hadn't noticed any empathy from the Joker or anything at all that would show that he had actually cared about his employees.

"How about a magic trick?" the Joker replied with enthusiasm, redirecting Hermione's, and everyone else's, attention.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a number two pencil and jammed it into the table. Hermione was curious to see what he was planning with this.

Swirling his hand around the pencil, the Joker continued. "I'm going to make this pencil disappear."

Hermione wondered for a brief moment if she was supposed to do that for him.

Gambol signaled to one of his henchman, who began walking towards to the Joker. Hermione stifled a gasp. Should she intervene? The Joker seemed to be calm, but this man was going to hurt him or even worse, kill him. Hermione hesitated, her wand raised. The man reached for his gun, and Hermione instantly reacted by Stunning him.

Everyone sitting around the table scooted back in shock. They gaped at the henchman who was now unconscious on the ground and then back at the Joker. A mixture of fright and disbelief broke through Maroni's usually calm visage. The Chechen stared in awe, while Gambol simply looked disturbed.

"Um," the Joker paused. That trick was ruined. Oh well, save it for another time. It was always _such_ a crowd pleaser. He improvised. "Ta-da! He's…he's out."

The three gangs began to murmur amongst themselves, mistrusting what they had just witnessed. This man wasn't just any weirdo.

"How you do that?" asked the Chechen suspiciously. He had been watching the pencil closely.

Hermione began to chew her fingernails. Oops, she definitely wasn't supposed to have Stunned that man.

"Well it wasn't _me_," the Joker rolled his eyes. "You see, _I _would have killed him, but little miss sunshine here just had to stop me."

That was Hermione's cue. She lifted the Charm. Everyone scooted back for a second time; Gambol jumped in his chair, and a few even let out a gasp. Maroni's eyes widened, and the Chechen seemed on the brink of a heart attack.

"_There_ she is," the Joker grinned. "Now why'd you have to go ruin my trick?"

Hermione threw on her best smirk and crossed her arms.

"For someone like me," Hermione tossed her ponytail. "That's not much of a trick."

She had to play it up in front of them. After all, the Joker had said that they were tough.

* * *

><p>Batman was sorely confused.<p>

Sure enough, he had found the Joker's card in the rubble at Cobblepot. However, after much investigating, Batman had no idea what had gone down exactly in the cafe. Despite what the news reporter had said, this was no gas explosion. As far as Batman could tell, there were multiple sources of fire, judging by the erratic damage, and they did not stem from the kitchen. He did find a little shrapnel, but not enough to account for all the destruction.

He needed that police report. Once he figured out what happened, then maybe he could understand the Joker's motives. Or perhaps a mass-murdering psycho didn't need one.

Either way, he was going to have to speak to Gordon. And based on bat signal glowing in the darkening sky, Gordon wanted to talk to him, too.

They met on their usual rooftop. It was starting to get chilly. Gordon sipped on a cup of hot coffee, as Batman wrapped his cape around him.

"Do you have any news about the Joker?" Gordon began.

Gordon's question caught Batman by surprise. He didn't think the police department had caught on to the Joker's involvement. At least, that's not what the news had conveyed.

"I only just got back from the cafe, but I'm looking into it," Batman rasped. "I need to know what happened."

Gordon was confused. Batman had a long night with Scarecrow and his accomplices, but it wasn't like him to get the facts wrong.

"Cafe?" Gordon asked. "You mean the bank?"

"Wait, what about the bank?" Batman replied in mutual confusion.

"What, you don't know that there was an attempted robbery there this morning?" Gordon was stunned. Batman was normally unusually informed on everything, knowing details he and his department never released to the public.

Likewise, Batman wasn't used to being in the dark. After he had heard of the explosion on the news, he had changed and left. He must have missed this.

"No. Attempted robbery?" Batman said. "What happened? I only heard about Cobblepot."

Gordon finally caught onto what Batman was referring to.

"Oh, you're talking about the cafe that got destroyed by a gas explosion this morning," Gordon said, raising his arm in exasperation. Some of the scalding coffee spilled onto his arm, burning him. Gordon yelped, barely managing to not drop the entire mug.

Batman ignored that and moved on.

"Exactly, except it wasn't a gas explosion," he explained.

Gordon wanted to redirect the conversation to the bank, which was in his opinion more important. But he was interested in what Batman had to say.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Batman handed the Joker card to Gordon.

"I found this at the crime scene," he said.

Gordon examined it. He had seen this card before and knew, without a doubt, that it was the Joker's.

"You think the Joker is behind this? Why would he target a cafe?" Gordon asked.

"I'm not sure. I know it seems strange. Robbing banks is definitely more up his alley," Batman replied.

"Well that's what we were confused about. A guy drove a school bus into the bank this morning. He was definitely there for the cash, except it seemed that his accomplices, who were responsible for actually stealing the money, never made it," Gordon said.

There had to be a connection between the bank robbery and the cafe explosion. It couldn't be a coincidence that both happened at the same time.

"But you caught the driver," Batman said. "Who was he working for?"

"He said the Joker."

* * *

><p>"Maroni! I work for Maroni!" the man sobbed.<p>

It was hard to believe this guy was once a street thug. He wouldn't have lasted a day as a Snatcher, much less a Death Eater. Two rounds of the Cruciatus Curse and he was broken. Greyback wanted to keep going for fun, but Scabior needed this one sane - at least until he got the information he needed.

"And where is this Maroni?" Scabior asked dangerously.

The man eyed Scabior's wand and curled up into the fetal position.

"He…he's at some meeting right now," he whispered meekly.

A meeting? That meant others would be there. This was his chance to find his girl.

"You're going to take us there," Scabior knelt in front of the man. "Now."

* * *

><p>"What-what the hell are you?" Gambol demanded Hermione. He unsuccessfully tried to mask his shock with anger.<p>

"What do you think?" Hermione winked. This was so out of character for her, but the men seemed to be buying it.

"She's a _witch_," the Joker answered for them. "And, well, just as you all saw, I wouldn't try anything with _her_."

Maroni and the Chechen began discussing with their respective men, all the while observing Hermione. She continued to act nonchalant and mysterious, leaning on one foot with her hand on her hip.

Gambol, on the other hand, did not react well to the Joker's words.

"I don't know what this is," Gambol stood up angrily. He motioned to his men, and they followed his lead. "But I'm not having any part of it. I'm offering a million for these two…these two _freaks_ dead."

And with that, he stormed out of the kitchen before anyone could stop him, not that they would. Rivalries aside, no one cared for Gambol and his crew. They had an even larger sense of entitlement, which rubbed the Chechen the wrong way. And Maroni felt that Gambol's temper was both distasteful and irritating.

The Joker ignored Gambol and continued. Hermione, copying the Joker's mood, also acted as if she wasn't fazed by Gambol's departure and death threat. His words didn't affect Hermione, but she had never thought of herself as a freak. They were just afraid of her magic. The Joker, however, was eccentric. Still, Hermione wouldn't label him a freak.

"I take full responsibility for what happened at the bank," the Joker said, pointing to himself. "But it just so happens that we have some new _visitors_ in town. The money? That's the _least_ of your problems."

He turned to Hermione and gestured to her to speak.

Hermione hadn't prepared any speech, but she had everyone's full and undivided attention.

"There are men in this town that are like me - wizards," Hermione began. "They killed the men who were supposed to rob that bank. Those guys didn't even stand a chance. I know about guns, and they are useless against magic."

The Chechen narrowed his eyes and nodded to one of his men. Hermione had been anticipating this. He pulled out his gun. Hermione already had her Shield in place. The henchman shot a few rounds, all of which disintegrated in the blue forcefield. Everyone besides the Joker and Hermione murmured in awe.

"You know," the Joker said, irritated. "I'm a man of my word."

Hermione was a little annoyed, too. Not everyone was an instant believer like the Joker. Most people were confined by the limits of their imagination, or what they would allow to be real in their minds. A social outcast like the Joker could accept magic easier and without doubt.

"But thanks for testing that out," Hermione continued. "As I was saying, you're all in danger, and we're going to have to work together if we're going to get rid of these guys."

"Hold on," Maroni interrupted. "Why are we being targeted? And how exactly are you involved in all of this?"

The Joker was equally eager to know.

"It's complicate," Hermione sighed. "But here's the main gist. The wizarding world, my world, is in shambles - it's being run by criminals, like you, called Death Eaters. They're trying to purify the race, and they believe muggles - non-magic folk such as yourselves - should be enslaved. I'm a witch, but not the kind that they prefer, so I'm in your boat. The guys here are Snatchers, and their job is to capture people like me. And while they're here, they'll destroy your city for fun."

It was a story that none of them had heard, not even the Joker. He had thought that this man operated alone, with whatever men he had working for him. It was disappointing, to be sure, to know that he was a pawn, that ultimately he had no power. The Joker yearned for a rival that met his standards, but it would seem that there was no one other than the Batman. The only challenge would be overcoming magic, though the Joker had a few ideas of his own, and outsmarting these guys, which actually shouldn't be very difficult at all. He just needed to know what he was up against, what they were capable of.

And along the way, of course, he would do his best to corrupt this beautiful witch. After all, he was an agent of chaos.

"That's an interesting story," the Joker said. "And I can see just how _tenacious_ these snatchers are to find you. Now what else can they do besides deflecting bullets and, I'm assuming, turning invisible?"

"Let's just say it would take much less time if I listed out what they couldn't do," Hermione said, knowing this was going to demoralize everyone in the room. But it was necessary for them to know, if they were to properly come up with a plan. "They're fast - I mean, they can teleport. It'll be important to catch them off guard. If they caught you, they could control your mind and body, make you do whatever they want. Or, they could torture you with unimaginable excruciating pain for information. If they had any Polyjuice potion, they could even take on your appearance. I'm telling you, there's very little that they can't do."

This time, no one needed any proof to believe Hermione's words. Their faces paled.

The Joker had anticipated something along the lines of what Hermione had said. Those wizards were such _cheaters_, but he reveled in knowing that not even magic could stop him. These mobsters trembled at the unknown. Simply put, they were a pathetic match for the Joker. He could never go back to ripping them off.

"But what can we do against such powers?" asked the Chechen. The situation seemed hopeless to him. "And how do we know who they are?"

"All snatchers wear a red band around their arm," Hermione replied. "So if you see one, let us know. And we all do have a chance. You know this city much better than I do. If we can coordinate, use our combined resources to keep track of where the snatchers are, we could organize an offensive."

"Wait, you want to attack these guys?" Maroni said. "If what you're saying is true, we should get the hell out of here."

"What chance we have of winning?" asked the Chechen. "I do not wish to lose our…social stance."

"As it so happens, _I_ have a plan," the Joker said. "I need your men and supplies."

"What is your proposition?" asked the Chechen.

"Well for obvious reasons, I can't _tell_ you," the Joker rolled his eyes. "I mean, you heard the girl. Any of you could get caught and the plan would be blown!"

"So you're asking us to give you our men without knowing what you're going to do?" Maroni replied sarcastically. "What's to say you don't give our men back?"

"It's in _my _interest, too, to kill these men," the Joker replied. "You see, I'm a man of simple tastes. I like dynamite, and gunpowder... And gasoline! Do you know what all of these things have in common? They're cheap!"

"You don't want any money?" asked the Chechen suspiciously.

"Not this time," the Joker grinned. "I just want your men and supplies. And then you all can kick back and _relax_, go hide somewhere till this is all over."

Both Maroni and the Chechen hesitated. They didn't have any plan of their own, and the Joker seemed better versed in all of this. He didn't look intimidated by what Hermione had said. The man hadn't even flinched. That didn't say much about his mental state; the Joker could care less about the risks. He was their only potential solution, the only way they could possibly keep Gotham in their hands. And if they didn't go along with his plan, all would be lost anyway. The Joker was the lesser of two evils.

The Chechen was the first to slide his cell phone across the table, nodding to his men.

Now cornered on his own, Maroni did the same. He couldn't be the only one against the Joker in this room.

The Joker pocketed both phones. That was easy.

Hermione was very relieved by the turn of events. Even though the first mobster had left, the rest had handed them an army. Of course, she wasn't sure if the Joker was bluffing about having a plan, but it worked. She would never have gotten this far with a muggle in any other city. Her optimism soared, whether she wanted it to or not.

The Joker opened his mouth to thank the mobsters, but a loud cry interrupted him.

"In there, they're in there!"


	8. Open The Floodgates

A/N: Okay, one last one before I leave because I do fly today! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! :0) Leave some love!

* * *

><p>Hermione whipped her head around. Somehow Scabior had found her. Wand out, she Summoned all of the weapons in the room.<p>

The mobsters stared with their jaws dropped as their guns and knives floated above them.

"Oppugno!" she shouted, pointing her wand towards the swinging doors.

The weapons whisked off in that direction. Soon, the sound of gunfire and yells filled the room. The mobsters jumped out of their seats, unsure how to defend themselves. They looked around helplessly for another exit.

Hermione looked around for the Joker as Scabior and Greyback burst through the doors. Scabior suffered a minor cut on his left cheek from one of the knives. Blood seeped out of Greyback's right knee; he limped noticeably.

The muggle criminals huddled under the tables, watching in fear.

"Got you, love," Scabior gritted his teeth. Greyback growled at his side.

Hermione raised her wand again. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she glimpsed several oval objects rolling across the floor, and a flash of purple disappearing behind the swinging doors.

Grenades.

Maroni, the Chechen and the rest of their men panicked, scrambling towards the exit. Some were taken down by Scabior and Greyback, before Scabior noticed the grenades, too.

He opened his mouth to warn Greyback, but there was no time. He and Hermione had only barely casted their Shield charms before the grenades went off.

And everything lit up like a Christmas parade.

* * *

><p>The force of the explosion reached the Joker, throwing him onto the pavement. He laughed the entire way, watching the fireworks - <em>his<em> fireworks. He then pulled himself up and got into the 18-wheeler. Lucky for him, no one had stolen it, even though he had left the key in the ignition. In times like these, it helped to have a fast getaway.

"She'll be okay," the Joker murmured as he drove off, not that he cared.

She was the most interesting girl he had ever met, to be sure, but he didn't need her to have fun. Did he? If he found himself missing her, he'd fix that. She was a smart girl. She would have protected herself from the grenades, and if she hadn't, well, that was natural selection for you.

He would also be rather put out if the _Snatcher_ got blown to pieces. Where was the fun in that? The Joker had _so_ much planned and so little time.

Yes, there was a lot to be done. He pulled out one of the cell phones in his pocket - Maroni's. Hopefully he hadn't killed the majority of his new crew. He still needed them to do a few things before he disposed of them.

And he also had to find one of those red-band wearing cheaters.

* * *

><p>Though both Scabior and Hermione had put up Shield charms in time, the explosion still knocked them off their feet. Hermione rolled on the ground, undoubtedly covered in cuts and bruises. The entire building had been reduced to rubble, blood and body parts, much like Cobblepot.<p>

It seemed that destruction followed her - or more like the Joker - wherever she went.

Dizzy and disoriented, Hermione noticed that only she and Scabior were left. Pieces of Greyback must be among the rest of the guts surrounding her.

Despite the pounding headache she had, Hermione forced herself to get up. Scabior was already stirring, raising his wand. He hadn't seen her yet. Before he could gather his groundings, Hermione remembered about the 18-wheeler and immediately Disapparated.

She appeared in an empty parking lot, with no cars or trucks in sight.

* * *

><p><em>Gunfire and explosion on Eighth and Cicero! Requesting immediate back up!<em>

The walkie talkie interrupted Gordon and Batman, who had been poring over the surveillance tapes of Cobblepot.

The reports had been useless. It was the same story every time - gas explosion accident. Gordon planned on questioning the officers who had turned them in later. He wasn't used to seeing such sloppiness in the department, so the reports themselves showed suspicious activity.

Surveillance cameras nearby, however, caught the Joker waiting on a sidewalk for half an hour, before he seemingly gave up and walked into Cobblepot.

"Hold on," Batman raised his hand. Gordon paused the video. "Rewind that and play it in slow motion."

He watched again, closely, and noticed the Joker's right shoulder twitch, as if someone had bumped into him.

"What is it?" Gordon asked, not sure what Batman had seen.

"Look, right there," Batman pointed to the Joker's shoulder, rewinding the tape again. "What does that look like?"

Gordon peered at the screen and saw the movement in the Joker's shoulder.

"It looks like someone ran into the Joker," Gordon said. "But are we really entertaining the idea of invisible people?"

"Let's watch the rest of the tapes first," Batman suggested. He wasn't so sure he was ready to accept that idea, either.

The other tapes showed the Joker walking into the cafe again. Fifteen minutes later or so, though, another man stood outside of the cafe. He was dressed strangely, in a black leather jacket and plaid pants. Moreover, he had long brown hair with a red streak, pulled back in a ponytail. They couldn't see his face, but his arm bore a red band.

The man then proceeded to destroy the shop and kill people with what appeared to be green light coming out of a wooden stick.

The camera from inside the cafe recorded footage of the ensuing fight. A bushy haired girl, young enough to be in high school, joined the fray, also shooting light out of a stick. The Joker shot at the man with a gun, the only familiar sight to Batman and Gordon, but the man seemed to be protected by some sort of forcefield. The bullets simply disintegrated in front of him. The last few minutes of the tape caught the Joker tossing out grenades, before all of the cameras were destroyed.

If anything, the videos only raised more questions.

"Who is this guy?" Gordon whispered. He had never seen anything like it.

"I don't know," Batman admitted. He stood up. "But that girl could be our invisible person. This man's obviously powerful and dangerous. Your men should take care when approaching him."

"Wait, what are you going to do?" Gordon asked.

"I'm going to find the Joker. He must know who this man is, since he sought him out. The Joker could also explain who that girl is. Keep me updated on anything you find," Batman replied.

* * *

><p>When Scabior came to, he was alone in a heap of dust, rocks and blood, except this time it wasn't entirely his doing. He looked around him for the mudblood, but she was nowhere to be seen.<p>

"Greyback?" Scabior called out, turning around. Had he gone after the girl? "Greyback? Where the hell are you?"

He then remembered that Greyback hadn't casted a Shield charm in time.

That was another man he had lost. And it wasn't just any Snatcher, it was Greyback, his right-hand werewolf! Infuriated, Scabior kicked away a piece of an arm. What was he going to do? He would have to gather the rest of his men and formulate a plan. He had lost his muggle thug, and he was sure most of the town's criminals, or at least the important ones, had been blown to pieces as well.

He was going to find the mudblood and make her pay.

Except, she wasn't the one who had killed Greyback. No, that was the strange man in the purple clothing. And he had also somehow escaped with his mudblood.

He ran back outside. No one was there, of course.

Without an inkling of where they had gone, Scabior Summoned his men.

* * *

><p>It was easy enough gathering up the rest of Maroni and the Chechen's men. The cell phones had all the contacts, and the Joker had texted them all at once to meet him at an abandoned warehouse. All those who weren't at the meeting showed up. And even then it didn't take much convincing for the Joker to gain their allegiance. Their bosses were dead, and they weren't going to get paid unless they found more work. Thankfully, the Joker could provide that.<p>

But the Joker needed more guys. Also, he couldn't worry about Gambol sending people after him. So he decided to kill two birds with one stone. And he did enjoy killing.

Lying in a trash bag, the Joker could hear the anger in Gambol's voice.

"The clown dead," Gambol said. That was most important, though. He could care less about the girl, except she was a threat. "That's 500."

The Joker twitched from inside the bag. When would this guy learn his name? He just wanted some respect.

"How about _alive_, hmm?" the Joker jumped up and grabbed Gambol's face.

He reveled in seeing the shock and fear in Gambol's face. It was about time.

He stuck a knife in Gambol's mouth, as his men pulled their guns on Gambol's cronies - the Joker's new recruits.

"Do you wanna know how I got these scars?" the Joker purred. He paused. He loved story time. "My father was a drinker… and a _fiend_. One night, he comes home _crazier_ than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. _Not... one... bit._ So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says, 'Why so _serious_?' He comes at me with the knife - '_why so serious?_' sticks the blade in my mouth - '_let's put a smile on that face! _And…"

The Joker turned to Gambol's men, who were trembling in fear. He could see it in their eyes. They were horrified and scared for their lives. They just needed to loosen _up_ a little.

"Why so serious?" the Joker asked, slicing Gambol's face. Gambol collapsed to the ground, and the Joker dusted off his hands.

He walked around the room and grabbed a pool cue, tossing it in the air and catching it.

"Now, our operation is small, but there's a lot of potential for aggressive expansion. So, which one you fine gentlemen would like to join our team? Oh, there's only one spot open right now, so we're going to have tryouts." the Joker said, snapping the cue in half and dropping one of the jagged ends on the floor. He turned to his men as he walked out of the room. "Make it fast."

* * *

><p>Hermione was furious. Why had he just left her like that, as if she was one of the mobsters or even worse, one of the Snatchers? They were supposed to be in this together, and he had driven off, leaving her to fend for herself.<p>

"Not that I haven't done that before," Hermione muttered. She had found another restaurant to hide in, one with a television so she could watch the news. Also, she was starving.

The Joker said he had a plan. Hermione was itching to know what that was.

"If he hadn't had set off those grenades, none of us would have made it out of there," Hermione thought. "It wasn't as if he had time to alert me."

He certainly wasn't purposely trying to hurt her.

Hermione was determined to find him and ask questions first. She needed to know if he was on her side.

"Although an enemy of my enemy is my friend," Hermione reasoned.

* * *

><p>Bruce paced around his living room, frustrated with his findings, or lack thereof. It would seem that no one knew the Joker's whereabouts. In fact, no one knew anything at all about him - where he was from, who he had worked with.<p>

Simply put, Bruce had no idea how to find the Joker, the other man or the girl.

He turned on the television, hoping for some news of the Joker. Either way, he was going to meet with Gordon in the morning. Maybe Gordon found something at the second explosion site. With the attempted bank robbery and the peculiar fight at Cobblepot, that couldn't be a coincidence.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Joker's voice coming out of the television.

"Tell them what you are," the Joker's voice could be heard from behind the camera.

A man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, black jeans and black boots was tied up on the linoleum floor. He appeared to be in his late 20's. His right arm donned a dark, red fabric band. Although his face was bloodied up, he remained defiant.

"I'm a bloody wizard, you filthy muggle. You're going to regret tying me up," he threatened the Joker.

The Joker ignored that and continued, filming the man.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"London," the man spat.

"And why are you wearing this? What are you doing all the way here in Gotham?" the Joker teased, playing with the red fabric. He circled the man.

Bruce noticed the Joker was fiddling with a stick similar to the ones from the surveillance footage.

"We're going to destroy your bloody city. We're going to kill all of you!" the man shouted, trying to scoot away from the Joker, but to no avail.

The Joker laughed, waving the stick in the man's face.

"And how are you going to do that tied up without your _wand_? Hmm? Who do you work for?" the Joker poked the man with the stick.

The man lunged at the Joker, attempting to get the stick, but the Joker was ready for that. He jumped up, giggling.

"Scabior. He's the best bloody Snatcher. We're not afraid of muggles like you," the man snarled.

Despite his ferocity, the man showed a tinge of fear. He was certainly helpless without his wand.

"Is that so? Well, you should be. You _really_ should be! So, you think that magic is going to save you? Hmm? Look at me. LOOK AT ME!" the Joker growled in his gravely voice.

He pulled out his knife, and the man backed up involuntarily. The Joker shifted the camera back to himself.

"See, we've got some new _crazies_ in town! You want order in Gotham? Then you've got some work to do! All of our _British _visitors must die. As you can see here, these _cheaters_ can't do much without this. Oh, and every day they don't, people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word!"

And then the camera turned to the man, as the Joker started towards him with the knife.

Bruce turned off the television before the screaming began.

* * *

><p>Hermione gasped at the television, stunned by the Joker's violence. She dropped her fork and pushed her plate of half-eaten pasta al pomodoro away from her. The video had killed her appetite, no pun intended.<p>

Yet a part of her somehow knew he'd always had it in him. Ever since she had been thrown in the hunt, Hermione could sense darkness better. She had probably unconsciously suppressed it so she could work with the Joker.

But she could no longer justify it.

"I can't let him kill other people," Hermione thought worriedly. This was all her fault.

Still, she couldn't help but feel relieved that Greyback was dead - and now this other Snatcher, too.

"You're not the one doing the killing," another voice argued in her mind, one that had surfaced when Justin had tried to kill her long ago. "And if he does manage to get rid of Scabior and the other Snatchers, he would be saving lives in the long run. This is what you've always wanted."

Hermione shook her head, as if it would get rid of the voice, her voice. It was rational, yes, but wrong. She wanted to take down Scabior without hurting anyone else. Was that so hopelessly idealistic?

Hermione stood up and left the restaurant without paying. She had to find a place to spend the night.

Tomorrow, Hermione would go to the police department and work with the muggles. That was the right thing to do. She had to warn them about the Snatchers and stop the Joker from killing innocent people.

* * *

><p>Scabior and his men were sitting in a hole in the wall restaurant, eating their food and observing the muggle box that showed moving images with sound when the Joker's video came on.<p>

They had taken over the restaurant after Scabior's disastrous encounter with the muggle criminals. Scabior had vented his frustration by killing the employees and patrons after their food had come out. It was most logical to do it in that order, as Scabior was a lousy cook.

He now had only four Snatchers left, besides himself.

And he had also been wondering where Yorke was. Yorke hadn't turned up to Scabior's Summoning. He and his men had looked for him in the area he had been covering. After an hour or so, they had given up and found this restaurant. Scabior's blood boiled, watching the muggle freak toy with his Snatcher. How did he catch Yorke? This muggle was not to be underestimated. No, Scabior would not repeat that mistake.

"Change of plan," Scabior growled, crushing the soda can in his hand. "We're going to get that man first. And I want him alive."

* * *

><p>AN: Well this chapter certainly brings back a lot of familiar scenes from The Dark Knight! What did you think? I admit, it is so much more fun writing these present chapters. And I can't wait for the next one. Who knows, I may write on the plane. Leave a review!

CC: Thank you! Hermione's arrival will certainly change a lot of events hehe. Hope you enjoyed this one!


	9. I Am Citizen Insane

A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update! I got back from Chile a few days ago. It was BEAUTIFUL and I highly recommend going to Patagonia. The weather was great, the nature beautiful. A huge fire started while we were there though and over 30,000 acres burned. We had to evacuate - it was crazy. Anyway, here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy! Do review :-)

* * *

><p>Gordon immediately recognized the girl when she entered the department. Just like in the surveillance footage, it was impossible to miss that nest of hair.<p>

She looked nervous and fidgety. Gordon also noticed her attire matched that of the man in the Joker's video. Nevertheless, he thought it would be best if he approached her kindly. Her coming to see him could only mean she wanted to help. Perhaps she didn't know the Joker as well as she thought and was scared by his antics from last night.

"Hi there," Gordon greeted Hermione with a warm smile. "I'm Lieutenant Gordon. Can I help you?"

Hermione's eyes darted around the room. As far as she could tell, Scabior and his men were nowhere to be seen. It was only a matter of time, though, before they learned about the police.

"I need to speak with you," Hermione replied. She had to be careful. "Somewhere more private."

Perfect. Batman was supposed to be meeting Gordon on the rooftop. This was Gordon's chance to introduce the two.

"Sure, I know a place we can go," Gordon nodded.

He led her to the back of the department and up several flights of stairs. No one spared her a second glance; Gordon had not told his department about her, though he had warned them about the man in the plaid pants. Of course, he didn't mention any of the weird stuff, either, because he would undoubtedly lose his job if his men or the commissioner questioned his sanity.

But in the video last night, the Joker had given a few clues himself. The stick was supposed to be a wand, and the red band identified the man as a wizard. His department had called the victim insane, perhaps even more so than the Joker. Gordon planned on showing them the surveillance footage after his meeting with Batman and this girl. That would have to convince them that they were dealing with other worldly powers. Maybe this girl could help.

"What's your name?" Gordon asked the girl lightly. She jumped a little at his question, obviously lost in her own thoughts.

"Um," Hermione hesitated. There couldn't be any harm in divulging that information. It didn't matter anymore. Everyone was in this together. The Joker had made sure of that. "Hermione. Hermione Granger."

It was the queerest name Gordon had ever heard, but he gave no sign of it. Instead, he smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Hermione," Gordon replied. "I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine."

Hermione turned around and was startled to see a man dressed in a bat suit. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air, but he had to be a muggle. He was tall and, even through his gear, Hermione could tell he was heavily muscled. He didn't look like any police officer she had seen downstairs. And then a bell ringed in her head. She had read somewhere about a batman…

"Hermione, this is Batman," Gordon answered Hermione's question.

She stuck her hand out. She wished she had finished the article, but the Joker had interrupted her and changed everything. So she didn't know anything about Batman.

Batman glanced down at Hermione's hand in amusement. No one had tried to shake his hand before. After a moment of hesitation, Batman grasped Hermione's hand and shook it briefly. If she was willing to trust him, he had to give her a chance, too.

"You're working with the Joker?" he rasped, cutting to the point.

It was time to find out what exactly their relationship was.

"The Joker? Who's that?" Hermione asked.

Batman narrowed his eyes. He didn't like it when people played dumb with him.

"The man in the purple suit and make-up," Gordon explained patiently, giving Batman a look. He could see that the girl was genuinely confused.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, hands covering her mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't know his name. He never told me, and I…didn't think to ask. I mean, he doesn't know my name either."

That was strange. They obviously had not been working together for long.

"How did you end up working with him?" Batman asked. "Did you two meet at Cobblepot?"

"Cobblepot?" Hermione replied. This time she caught on faster. "Oh, you mean the cafe. Yes, he found me there after I…bumped into him accidentally."

This confirmed Batman and Gordon's theory that she was the invisible person. They shared a look, but didn't press the matter. It was understood; it didn't need to be said. No one wanted to speak the words. Their minds were only just grasping the unknown, the concept of magic.

"Can you explain what that video last night meant?" Gordon asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but they needed to know. "And maybe you can tell us who the man in the plaid pants from the cafe is?"

Hermione took a deep breath. That's why she was here, to explain all of it. Gordon and Batman were much different from the Joker in that they were embedded in society. She wasn't sure they would be able to accept magic as easily, when they were bound by the rules of their world. The Joker didn't have any rules. These two could call her a liar and reject her help.

"But I have to try," Hermione thought.

Because the Joker didn't have any rules, he was willing to do anything, and Hermione had to stop him. She wasn't going to let innocent people die when she could do something about it. Even she had her rules.

"Right," Hermione nodded. She couldn't very well mince her words."That Snatcher wasn't lying in the video. He's a wizard, just like Scabior, the man from the cafe. They're here hunting me, and they're also set on destroying your city. You see, they don't take well to muggles, non-magic folk."

Any hope of the victim being insane instantly died. It was as Gordon and Batman feared; the situation was real. Before, even when they had seen the surveillance footage, a part of them wanted not to believe what they had seen. But what Hermione said forced them to change their attitude.

"Wizards," Batman repeated at the same time as Gordon.

Hermione's heart sunk. Would they not believe her and label her as crazy?

"I know it's hard to believe," Hermione said. Muggles always believed what they could see. "But I'm not lying. I'm a witch. I can prove it to you."

The Joker would have encouraged her, would have wanted to see it all. But Batman and the Gordon were satisfied with her answer and wanted to keep the strangeness to a minimum. They were not as limited as the average muggle, nor were they as open-minded as the Joker.

"No need," Batman shook his head. "We saw the surveillance footage. We just didn't understand what was going on. So these men are after you? How is the Joker involved in all of this?"

Hermione was relieved to see that they were listening to her. She was hopeful that, together, they could stop the Joker - stop him from killing innocent people, anyway. Hermione was still willing to let him try to take on Scabior. She hated herself for wanting it, but Hermione was going to let the Joker's plan run its course, with her intervention. Not that she was going to tell Gordon or Batman that. She would lead them to believe that they had her full cooperation.

"I told you, he just found me after I ran into him," Hermione explained. "I don't know why, but he wanted to help me, so we went to talk to some other criminals at a meeting."

The pieces fell together for Gordon. The Joker was working on a whim - who knew what his end plan was. He was dangerous, but Gordon needed to understand this new threat.

"Eighth and Cicero," Gordon replied. He turned to Batman. "The explosion there. Maroni and the Chechen are dead. We're not sure about Gambol. Those Snatchers were there, too?"

The word felt strange on his tongue. Gordon forced himself to use her terminology, to admit out loud that this was all happening. He had to come to terms with it for him to protect Gotham.

"They arrived after us," Hermione replied. She forgot how advanced muggles were. Of course they already knew about the explosion. "The Joker set off several grenades. He managed to escape, as did I. Scabior survived, too."

"How do we stop these…men?" Batman asked. Unlike Gordon, he couldn't push himself to say the word 'wizard.'

That was what they really needed to know - how to address the threat. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't have good news.

"You can't," Hermione sighed. In this sense, muggles were quite limited. "Not with guns, anyway. Bombs only work if they're caught off guard. As you can see, Scabior is quite familiar with them."

"Then what do we tell people to do?" Gordon said, throwing his arms up in exasperation. He wasn't so sure he wanted to show his men the surveillance footage anymore. He needed them to stay sane, to obey. "Hide from wizards?"

"We don't," Batman answered for him seriously. "It's not likely many will believe us, and as Hermione said, there's not much they can do."

"Then what about the Joker's threat?" Gordon pressed.

"I can help out with that," Hermione and Batman spoke at the same time.

They exchanged glances, assessing one another coolly.

Hermione was skeptical of Batman. He looked strange in his mask and cape, like a silly man playing dress-up. In fact, he struck her as even weirder than the Joker, and not at all as formidable.

Batman was also doubtful of Hermione's ability to help. He believed she was evenly matched with these other men in terms of ability, but he didn't quite trust her yet. After all, she had been working with the Joker. And Batman had to know what her end goal was, who _she_ really was.

"Okay, you two focus on the Joker," Gordon nodded. He had enough on his plate, and the Joker was nothing compared to these wizards. He wasn't sure what the Joker was thinking, taking them on. "I'll get my department to work on detaining these Snatchers, wizards, whatever they are, since we're better equipped. Thanks to the Joker, we know how to recognize them. I'll only tell my men what they need to know. We need to take these Snatchers by surprise, right?"

Hermione nodded. She was impressed by Gordon. He was much more level-headed than she had anticipated, and his plan was good. Hermione was hopeful despite herself. This could work. With the police, Batman and the Joker all on her side, Scabior and his men were in a tough situation. It would be much harder for them to focus on Hermione, and she knew they wouldn't be able to stroll around the city anymore. This was unlike any hunt. Hermione was going to do devote her efforts to taking down Scabior instead of running away. Though when it came down to it, she wasn't sure she could do it herself. But that's what the Joker was there for.

"You should let me know when you spot a Snatcher," Hermione said with as much authority she could muster. Even with what they knew, Hermione wasn't convinced they could handle it on their own. "That way I could help fight."

Likewise, Gordon and Batman looked skeptical. Hermione was a mere teenager, yet here she was acting like a soldier. They could only guess what her life must have been like, if she could be so nonchalant about running from cruel criminals - even if they were magical.

"Why don't you two continue to share information, while I go downstairs and prep my men?" Gordon suggested.

He was eager to develop a plan and start finding these men. Time was ticking by, and the Joker would be planning his next victims soon, if he hadn't already started. Gordon had to talk to the Mayor and explain the situation in a sane manner so that the people of Gotham could protect themselves. At the same time, Gordon had to ensure that people wouldn't be acting on the Joker's threat. The last thing he needed was a crazed, murderous population. He would get the message out that these British "visitors" were not to be approached; however, people should call the police if they saw anyone that fit the Joker's description. Then Gordon and his men would intervene and maybe call Hermione, too.

So he left to begin his work, as Batman nodded in consent.

Hermione, on the other hand, was more doubtful. She didn't trust the masked crusader yet. He didn't fit in with the other muggles, yet he wasn't like the Joker, who believed in anarchy. Why did he care about Gotham?

"So what's your…story?" Batman turned to Hermione. He unwittingly appeared stoic, unsure how to properly converse with the girl.

The two of them sized each other up, trying to understand one another.

"He's just trying to get to know you," Hermione thought. "It's the only way to get him to open up. He seems to know a lot about the Joker, too. Here I was, working with a man, and I didn't even know his name. This is the place to start."

"I'm from London," Hermione began. It was always easiest to start with the simple facts. "I'm supposed to be in my seventh year of schooling, but my world is at war. I was helping the one person who can end the war, my best friend, but I lost my memory. I meant to because I got caught. So I don't know if my parents are alive. I don't have any friends anymore. Those who aren't on the run are either dead or they've changed because of the hunt."

Hermione purposefully left out Ron because it hurt too much to think about him. At the same time, it felt relieving to finally tell someone about her life. Voicing it all out loud took a weight off her chest. All this time, Hermione had been suffering alone, in silence. Now, someone, well more than one person, meant to help her.

Batman nodded solemnly. He understood what she meant, and he couldn't help but emphasize. After all, he had lost his own parents. He had left his world, though not because of any war, and was all but alone. If it weren't for Rachel, Alfred and a few select others, there would be no Bruce, but only Batman. In a way, this girl was lonelier than he was. At least he had his memories.

"What about you?" Batman asked. Hermione looked confused. "You're part of the game, but you're not dead. So does that mean you've changed, too?"

Hermione shook her head, though they both knew the answer to that question. Their common rule is what brought them together. In actuality, they weren't much different from one another.

"I guess I'm in limbo," Hermione smiled wryly. "I'm the only one left. I refused to kill, so I have no more competition. I'm in it until I bring Scabior and his men down, unless they find and kill me first."

* * *

><p>For the first time, Scabior felt like he was being hunted.<p>

He and his men were used to walking outside, on the streets, undisturbed. But now people noticed them and scurried away. Sure, they didn't do anything, not that they could, but their presence was now known. And Scabior didn't like being watched.

He had two options: kill everyone in sight or keep a low key. Scabior would have much preferred the former, except he would be leaving an obvious trail of bodies. If only he had more men. Clean up just took such a long time.

In the end, he and his men abandoned the red strips of cloth they bore proudly. Scabior split his remaining crew into two groups; Scabior took two men, and the other two would work as partners. Before they parted ways, Scabior passed out fake Galleons to keep in touch, a method they had adopted a long time ago from the Malfoy boy. Little did they know, the very witch they were hunting had originally come up with the idea. And finally, though Patronuses were no specialty of theirs, Scabior told his men how to communicate in emergencies, not that there would be any if he could help it.

And his men failed him, Scabior would have to ask the Dark Lord for more. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation, so he didn't entertain the idea.

The goal was simple: find the man in the purple suit.

* * *

><p>"You know, if you already got away with it once, what made you think you could do it again? I mean, that's just <em>insulting<em>," the Joker shook his head at the two men lying at his feet.

So _Scabior_ really hadn't learned a thing. First, he had to go and split his men up, even though it hadn't worked out well for the last guy. And then you'd think his men would have been more prepared, too, but no, these wizards were infuriatingly stubborn. It was obvious that they were in denial - how could they possibly be in danger from a "normal" person?

And yet here they were.

Did Scabior _really_ think that stuffing those red bands into their pockets was going to conceal their identities? The Joker recognized them all, and so did the men working for him. It wasn't difficult. These guys just acted so _differently_. And here the Joker thought he was supposed to be the freak.

What really disappointed the Joker was how these snatchers didn't even change their tactics! Sure, they had found him the first time by questioning an unlucky thug of Maroni's. But did they really think that would work the second time around, when their methods were exposed?

Apparently so. And it _was_ insulting.

But now that the Joker thought about it, it _was_ the easiest way to lure Scabior, too. This was too easy, much too easy for _wizards_ who could teleport at will and shield themselves from guns and bombs. The Joker could only hope Scabior would bring his best.

"It doesn't matter," one of the Snatchers snarled, interrupting the Joker's thoughts. "You can't stop him."

The Joker knelt in front of the Snatcher and brandished his favorite knife. It felt so right in his hand.

"Here I am, taking away all of Gotham's targets. You know, I could end it all tonight," the Joker teased the Snatcher, sliding the flat side of the blade across his cheek. The Snatcher shuddered involuntarily.

"It doesn't matter," the other Snatcher spat defiantly. Unlike his comrade, he wasn't going to be intimidated by this muggle filth. "More will take our place."

With a flick of his wrist, the Joker plastered a smile on the Snatcher's mouth. He then turned to the other man.

"Good," the Joker grinned, licking his lips. "I wouldn't want anyone to miss out on all the _fun_."

* * *

><p>Scabior felt a rush of relief when he felt the fake Galleon turn hot in the palm of his hand.<p>

His few interrogations had been unsuccessful, except in discovering that the muggle "police" was after him. They were quite terrible at blending in, and the uniformed ones didn't stand a chance. Scabior and his men were on high alert. He hadn't found any news of the Joker, as the police called him. If it hadn't been for Greenwood, Scabior would have found the ministry of police and stormed the place, slaughtering everyone. They were such a nuisance.

As it was, Greenwood had found a place and a time.

The Joker was planning on crashing some fundraiser at Wayne mansion. Scabior had never heard of the name Wayne, and the only manor he had ever been to was the Malfoy's. It wouldn't take long to find it, and he wasn't going to bother dressing up.

Scabior imagined this was part of the Joker's punishment for the muggles - where the Joker's next victim was.

How ironic, then, that Scabior would be finding his victim there, too.

* * *

><p>Everything was going according. To. Plan. By that, he meant the ants were scurrying about dealing with the chaos he promised to unleash. And oh, was it going to be <em>fun<em>.

First, the Mayor had sent a silly message to the citizens of Gotham. The police would deal with the Joker's threat; don't approach the British men wearing the red bands; do report any suspicious activity or sightings of the aforementioned men; blah blah blah.

That meant that _someone_ had gone to the police. His girl. That was all well and fine, but he certainly hoped she didn't actually think that people wouldn't play.

Because they _were_ going to play. After that nice, calm message, the Joker had then released the body of Yam? Yak? outside the Mayor's office. It was fun stringing up the body in a noose, but the Joker had enjoyed telling Yike? Yorke? Yorke how he got his scars even more.

And that wasn't all. No, how could the death of a _Snatcher_, the very men Gotham was supposed to be hunting down, suffice as punishment? That wasn't part of the deal. The Joker was just showing everyone how it was done. The day's victims would come elsewhere. In fact, in a couple of hours, the city would lament the loss of Judge Janet Surillo and Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb. Yes, that was all settled and in motion. The Joker was sure Gordon had already figured out that they were targets. It wouldn't help.

And then, tonight, he would finish it off by killing Harvey Dent at his own fundraiser.

Except he hadn't had anticipated on his British friends being guests. But that was now a part of the _plan_. The Joker planned on having much more fun. He wasn't even sure if killing Dent would be his focus anymore.

It wasn't that he didn't think the people of Gotham had it in them to carry out his simple request. Quite the contrary, he felt such brutality was innate in every person. Gotham's inhabitants just needed motivation, that was all. And what better way than to show them what they had to lose, namely their city's heroes? The Joker supposed that, if by the end of the day, all of those wizards dropped dead, including any new ones, he could spare Dent.

But a promise is a promise, and there had been no killings last night. The Joker owed Gotham a few victims.

* * *

><p>The British man'swizard's body had named the Joker's next victims - Judge Surillo, Commissioner Loeb and Harvey Dent.

But despite Gordon's and his men's efforts, the Joker had killed Surillo and Loeb. It would seem that the Joker had friends deep within Gordon's force and Dent's office. How else could he have known to poison Loeb's scotch? Even Surillo's car had been rigged with explosives.

It was all a part of the Joker's plan, but he had to have help elsewhere. Gordon suspected he had inherited the mob's men. That made him a lot more dangerous, but it also traced all the city's criminals to him and him alone. In a way, it simplified matters.

In the hours since, two male victims with red strips of cloth tied around their arms turned up in different parts of the city. However, to make matters worse, when he called on Hermione, she immediately confirmed that they were not Snatchers.

In short, people were now butchering at random in hopes that the Joker would stop his killing. And this was only after the deaths of Surillo and Loeb. It was sad, to be sure, but what would people do when the Joker threatened to blow up a mall? Gordon grimaced at the thought.

"I can't stop him if I don't know where he is," Hermione groaned helplessly, misreading Gordon's pessimism. She and Batman had split up the city unsuccessfully in search of him.

"You don't know the city well," Gordon soothed her.

"Exactly," Hermione snapped. She was irritated at the task that was set out for her, when she could have been much more useful in protecting Surillo and Loeb. "But I could have saved that judge and your commissioner if you had told me what was going on."

No one could prove it. Still, Gordon couldn't help but feel that she was right. He should have trusted her. Instead, he had trusted his men. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

"I know," Gordon said quietly to Hermione's surprise. She hadn't expected him to admit his mistake. Likewise, Batman was caught off guard. "But we do know where the Joker will be tonight, if he's targeting Harvey Dent."

"Wayne's fundraiser," Batman said before he could catch himself. Thankfully, no one noticed his speedy epiphany, nor did they link him to Bruce Wayne.

"If there's any chance of the Joker being there, I'm going, too," Hermione declared.

She glared at Batman and Gordon, daring them to oppose her.

They didn't. As far as they were concerned, they were going to need all the help they could get.

* * *

><p>AN: Man oh man, keeping it as real to the movie as I can! Which btw...I totally had to watch it again to get motivation to continue writing (Chile really distracted me). Never fear...more is coming. Let me know what you think!

lynn - Thanks! I hope you think my characterization is accurate...at least to the movie. And I absolutely love throwing Hermione into these situations. Let's see how she does in the next chapter! Hehe.


	10. House of Cards

Hermione twirled a strand of her hair nervously as she observed the guests. Her other hand held a glass of champagne, not that she planned on drinking it. It was all for show.

And by Merlin's beard did she stand out.

Hermione looked absolutely radiant in a red satin gown that hugged her curves. It was a sophisticated v-neck, not the deep-plunging type that left little to imagination. The straps were encrusted with crystals so that Hermione shimmered every time she moved. Her hair was tied up in an elegant bun, with loose strands that framed her face. Much like at the Yule Ball, Hermione's hair was sleek, though not to the same extent. The Yule Ball had taken much more time and effort. Hermione also donned diamond stud earrings and a necklace, which only added to her glimmer. Her make-up was toned down and more natural - a neutral shade of eyeshadow, dark red lipstick, eyeliner and mascara.

Someone had dropped off the dress and jewelry at the police department, where Hermione had gotten ready for the banquet. She suspected it was Batman, who had left shortly after their discussion. He would come to the fundraiser, but later.

As for Gordon and his team, they would be positioned undercover around the building. Snipers were poised on the surrounding rooftops. Gordon had wanted some of his men at the fundraiser, too, but Hermione had argued adamantly against it. Nor could Gordon warn any of the guests. Some of his men had to be working for the Joker, otherwise they should have been able to save the judge and commissioner. Since they didn't know who the mole was, Hermione wanted to keep this operation under her and Batman's control. Besides, the Joker was intelligent. If he knew the party was filled with cops, he would surely bail.

Gordon grudgingly agreed. They needed to apprehend the Joker before he killed Dent. Then his men could focus on capturing the British terrorists, as he called them so his department didn't label him as crazy. In the end, Gordon hadn't showed anyone else the surveillance footage. He'd only bring it out if it was necessary, but right now they had everything relatively under control. Gordon was worried about everything hanging on Hermione, though. If she wasn't able to catch the Joker or if anyone's life was in danger, Gordon would give the order to shoot to kill. Sooner or later, Batman would join the scene. Where was he, anyway?

As for Hermione, she matched the crowd, though she was much younger. Several guests had approached her, but Hermione had brushed them off politely, heading over to the snacks and refreshments to avoid further conversation. It was important that she focused on finding the Joker the moment he arrived. She knew of Gordon's plan, but she wasn't going to let the snipers kill the Joker. She wanted to talk to him first.

Right now, Bruce Wayne was giving a boring speech. Hermione watched him with distaste. He was the type of muggle, no person, she detested - filthy rich from his parents' hard work, not his own. It reminded her of Malfoy at Hogwarts. Instead of doing any good with his money, he simply partied and whored around. Malfoy, on the other hand, had joined the Death Eaters like his parents, which was even worse. Still, Hermione hadn't entirely made up her mind about him. He was somewhat of an enigma.

Bruce gazed at her for a long moment. Hermione glared in return and turned away. She wouldn't spare him a moment. She at least had him figured out.

The man receiving the speech, however, interested Hermione. She knew his name was Harvey Dent and that he was the Joker's target. She could see why, too. He was probably the most decent citizen of Gotham. He actually stood up to criminals. Sure, Batman did, too, but he wore a mask. Dent was bold enough to do it as himself. Hermione found herself admiring Dent. If she were back in the wizarding community, that would have been Hermione's ideal role. It meant everything to her, standing up for justice. Unfortunately, she was in no position to do so.

"I'm just barely surviving," Hermione thought bitterly. Then, she changed her mind. "No, I'm doing better now. Much better. Somehow, everyone in this city has been helping me. I've never had a better chance. How many Snatchers does Scabior have left anyway?"

Before she could come up with a figure, a loud gunshot interrupted her thoughts.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," the Joker announced his arrival as he stepped out of the elevator. And here Hermione had been wondering if he would ever show up.

Everyone hushed up immediately, staring at him wide-eyed. All eyes on him. He loved it. Hermione observed him carefully, trying to wring out his true intentions.

"We're tonight's entertainment," he continued, stuffing a chocolate rose in his mouth - one of the perks of killing Dent in person. After all, he couldn't miss a fancy event like this one. "I only have one question. Where is Harvey Dent?"

As the Joker suspected, no one answered. Here he was talking to sheep. He began walking around, pointing his shotgun at various people; the guests had formed a large circle around him, the dumb herd that they were.

"You know where Harvey is? You know who he is?" the Joker began asking the guests. One by one, they pulled back in fear, mouths agape. They looked so dumb. No, they were dumb.

He grabbed the face of one man who looked particularly scared.

"You know where I can find Harvey? I need to talk to him about something. Just something, a little," the Joker questioned him. The old man looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Useless. He turned his face away. "No..."

It seemed like he really was determined to kill Harvey. As Hermione looked around the room, she wasn't sure where Harvey was either, or Bruce for that matter. They had just been out here minutes ago. She had to intervene before the Joker harmed anyone.

"Stop," Hermione said loudly. Everyone turned to face her, including the Joker.

Shifting his focus, he began walking to her, adjusting his hair with his knife.

* * *

><p>"What is she doing?" Gordon thought.<p>

Gordon was across the street in the penthouse of another luxurious high rise. Naturally, his department was granted a warrant for this operation. The inhabitants were gone, though Gordon would bet anything they were currently across the street at Wayne's fundraiser.

Hermione was supposed to be detaining the Joker, not calling out to him. Gordon hoped she knew what she was doing because, though the view was spectacular, his men didn't have clear shot, what with all the guests surrounding Hermione and the Joker. Gordon continued to pace irritably, all the while looking through his binoculars.

* * *

><p>"Well, hello, beautiful," the Joker leered at her, giving her an obvious once-over. And she <em>was<em> beautiful.

A girl who was beautiful, intelligent _and_ interesting? She was worth her weight in gold. No, more than that. The Joker didn't know anyone else like her. She was _irreplaceable_.

None of the guests would have imagined that the two actually knew each other. All they gathered was that the mysterious belle of the ball, who had been quiet all night, was now speaking out when everyone else had fallen silent. Their eyes darted between the Joker and Hermione apprehensively.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked him pointedly, crossing her arms.

She wasn't intimidated by him. The guests were shocked by her bravery, though a few thought she was being carelessly dumb. Some of the men wished they had her confidence to stand up to the Joker, but they didn't make a move. Little did they know, the Joker liked her confidence. She was so _different_.

"Why not?" the Joker shot back. He stopped, now uncomfortably close to Hermione. He leaned in, his body brushing up against hers. She felt _nice_. If Hermione was uncomfortable, she showed no sign. "I'm _helping_ you."

It was true. At the same time, the Joker was obviously playing with her. Hermione tried to move away from him, but the Joker had his hand on the small of her back, as if they were about to dance. And this was a dance of words.

To the others, it looked strangely intimate.

"I never meant for you to hurt other people," Hermione glared up at him. How _feisty_. "Innocent people."

As if the Joker cared. But he had to persuade her. He had to try to win her over.

"Collateral damage," the Joker waved his other hand nonchalantly. Really though, they had been fun to kill. He loved showing the _citizens_ of Gotham just how corrupt the system was. Not just the system, but the people. All people. Every single one of them was as corruptible as the next. And right now, he was seeing if little miss sunshine was, too. "Don't tell me you're not glad I've killed so many of the uh redcoats?"

Hermione's face reddened against her will, and the Joker grinned. Though she hadn't said a word in response, her face revealed her answer. She couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved by the Joker's intervention. And now she could feel the piercing glares, the harsh judgement of all the people around her. Perhaps it wasn't so wise taking on the Joker in public.

To the Joker, all was going quite well. It seemed he had a shot, which was more than he could say for Batman.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione tried to redirect the conversation, but it was clear the Joker had the control. "You didn't have to kill those other people."

"No?" the Joker mocked Hermione, looking around at everyone. They had to know. "But I'm a man of my _word_."

"Then why did you make such a cruel promise!" Hermione replied in indignation, not at all caring about their closeness anymore. She was too engrossed in their conversation.

In Hermione's mind, the Joker didn't have to create such a dilemma. However, she didn't know that he reveled in chaos. Not that he was going to say that here, when he was trying to corrupt Hermione so that, when the time was right, she would break her little rule. It was exactly what he wanted to do to Batman, except he found Hermione a more unique target.

Also, the Joker knew Gordon was watching right now, and he had to break her partnership with him.

"Why, I had to draw out your little friend," the Joker waved his knife around. He was pleased to see that Hermione didn't even flinch. She had a little fight in her, and he _liked_ that. Why, was there really anything he _didn't_ like about her, except for her misplaced sense of self-righteousness, which, at the moment, was quite malleable? "And I needed Gotham to wake up. I've been a lot more successful than you - just how many Snatchers have you managed to kill? Hmm? Oh right, when I found you, you were just hiding in a little cafe."

His singsongy tone sparked Hermione's anger, but he also spoke the truth. She couldn't deny that his plan had been going well, nor could she prove that she had done any better. In fact, Hermione knew she had been doing miserably on her own. Nevertheless, she wouldn't condone his actions.

"I'd rather be on the run, alone, than responsible for the deaths of two innocent people," Hermione said stubbornly, though the Joker had planted the seed of doubt in her mind.

He picked up on Hermione's uncertainty and continued to beat down on her with his logic.

"Sure, you can go on and cry about two, what do you call them, muggles," the Joker said, whispering the last word right in her ear, as if they were lovers, to emphasize the uselessness of his victims. "But how many lives have I saved? Hmm? You think those men would have left Gotham unscathed? They've already killed four cops."

"And you killed the judge and commissioner," Batman interrupted the Joker and Hermione's conversation.

* * *

><p>Finally, Batman showed up. Gordon knew he'd speed things up. Up until now, Gordon had been relatively sure that Hermione was going to apprehend the Joker. But he could plainly watch the two of them conversing - closely. As far as Gordon was concerned, she hadn't entirely cut her ties with him. In fact, it looked like they had some kind of relationship. That meant she wasn't to be trusted, not anymore.<p>

"I knew I should have sent my men in there," Gordon cursed out loud. All this time, she could have been helping the Joker. Wait, he could still send his men in. "She's lost her shot. Units two and four, get in there and take them both. I want her alive. The Joker, either way."

* * *

><p>Batman had an irritating knack for appearing out of nowhere. And he acted fast.<p>

He socked the Joker in the stomach, causing him to reel back, laughing all the while. The Joker's men stepped in and began taking Batman on together, but they were no match for him. One by one, Batman defeated them all, as the Joker thrust more men into the fight.

Meanwhile, Hermione reached into the pocket she had created in the side of her dress. It was fairly well hidden. Though it had pained Hermione to alter such a gorgeous dress, the pocket was completely necessary. Where else would she keep her wand?

Except, now as her hand felt around frantically, it was nowhere to be found.

She looked up, only to see the Joker waving her wand in his other hand as he winked at her.

Hermione turned to yell at Batman for help, but it was too late. The Joker grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with his hand, and pulled her away.

Oh, how stupid of her! All that time he had been close to her, he had been trying to disarm her.

And why hadn't she pulled her wand out earlier, when she wasn't able to push him away? Hermione should have know better than to let her guard down. She was used to trusting the Joker, what with all the help he had provided her so far. He hadn't set a precedent that warned Hermione of an eminent betrayal. The entire time they had been talking, he had been coaxing her, and it had almost worked. For a moment there, Hermione truly believed he was trying to help her, to do good. Now she could see that this was all part of a bigger plan, one with the Joker's goal in mind. Hermione still wasn't entirely sure what it was.

Well, her trust in the Joker was now broken.

Hermione began struggling against the Joker as he murmured in her ear. He soothed her, one of his gloved hands stroking her cheek: "Shh, shh, shh. Come here. Shh, shh. C'mere."

She shrieked as loud gunshots shattered the tall windows behind her. She couldn't see what was happening, so she covered her ears in anticipation.

Several men, clad in clown masks, burst through on a zip line and surrounded Hermione, taking a hold of her. One man stayed behind to disconnect the zip line and set up another one. The Joker shouted commands to them, but Hermione couldn't hear anything with the ringing in her ears.

Then Batman finally spotted her. He began fighting his way towards her. Some of the newly arrived men started shooting at Batman, who grabbed the nearest thug, using him as a shield. He then rolled out of the way while sending razor-sharp bat-shaped blades of his own. A few connected a couple of the Joker's thugs; they collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.

The Joker's men weren't interested in sticking around, though. Once the new zip line was ready, one grabbed a screaming Hermione and jumped off. Some of the other men followed suit, while others stayed behind with the Joker.

Batman fought furiously. He had to get to the zip line in time. He didn't know why, but he had to save her, Hermione. The Joker could wait.

He beat down the men around him savagely and ran towards the window. He reached for the zip line, attaching himself to it. Not caring about the risk, he jumped.

And then the wire went limp.

* * *

><p>From the moment the building came into view, Scabior could see the lights from the top floor and hear the sound of music. From where he was, he couldn't see the broken windows; nor did he notice the wire dangling on the side of the building.<p>

Scabior thought that the Joker certainly picked a classy party to crash. He also wondered momentarily what it was called to crash a party crasher.

He knew the muggle police surrounded the building, waiting. Just like every other cop he had seen, they were awful at blending in.

It was easy enough to slip by them; Scabior didn't want to waste time tracking them all down, and he certainly didn't want to draw attention to himself. This was all between him and the man in the purple suit.

He and his men stepped into an empty lobby. Scabior looked over the counter to see the receptionist slumped over, dead.

So he was here.

With a flick of his wand, Scabior set up wards so that there would be no interruptions. The person he wanted to see was already there.

Scabior looked around impatiently for Greenwood and O'Brien, but they were nowhere to be seen. That was irritating. Scabior had sent clear instructions to wait in the lobby, but they must have already gone up. After he had his revenge, they would pay for their insubordination.

"Let's move," Scabior ordered his men.

* * *

><p>Sergeant Frank Notaro, after hearing Gordon's command over the walkie talkie, led both units towards the high rise. They passed through the empty lobby and opted for the elevator, since Bruce Wayne lived in the penthouse. He pressed the highest number and waited with his gun aimed at the doors. The elevator zoomed up quickly. His men were silent and focused.<p>

"Remember," Notaro reminded his men. "Apprehend the Joker and the girl. The Joker is the top priority, but should he present any threat to us or the other civilians, shoot to kill. Take the girl alive."

When the elevator doors opened, however, they found themselves staring at an empty hallway. It looked like one of the regular floors, with various apartment units. All was silent, unlike the party they had witnessed from outside.

"Uh, this doesn't look like a penthouse," one of the men said, pointing out the obvious.

Confused, Notaro looked back at the elevator buttons. He had selected the top one. Was there a different elevator for the penthouse?

"Lieutenant…what floor is Wayne on?" Notaro spoke into the walkie talkie.

"Forty-two," Gordon answered crisply. "And what do you mean what floor is it on? It's the penthouse, for Christ's sake."

There was a pause, and then Gordon heard Notaro's reply.

"There isn't a forty second floor."

Gordon's next idea was to check the other elevators. In all likelihood, they had picked an elevator that didn't have access to the penthouse. So Sergeant Notaro led his men back down to the lobby, where they entered the other five elevators. But each one only went up to the forty-first floor. The situation was baffling, mind-boggling.

At that point, no one was entirely sure they were even in the right building anymore, so they rushed back outside. There, they could clearly see the penthouse above them, lights shimmering and dancing in the dark sky.

It was like a bad dream.

Notaro and his team went back into the lobby again to gather their wits. The guys were staring at him as if they now doubted reality. Notaro wasn't doing so well himself, but he had to be calm and collected in front of his men.

"Are you sure it's the forty second floor?" Notaro asked Gordon over the walkie talkie. Of course he was sure. They had gone up to the forty first floor, and there'd been no penthouse. But he had to ask.

"Yes, I'm sure," Gordon replied. Unlike Notaro and his men, Gordon didn't sound freaked out. It was almost as if he had anticipated something like this. "Someone must have tampered with the elevators. Try the stairs, while I get air support."

It was the only other logical solution, so Notaro gathered his men, hoping the task at hand and Gordon's explanation would set their minds at ease. They began marching up the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, and halfway up the stairs, Gordon's voice came through the walkie talkie again.

"Change of plan," Gordon said, as Notaro's men groaned. Running up stairs was not fun business, especially if it was all for nothing. "The Joker's men have taken the girl. They're on the move, and we need ground support."

"Uh, Lieutenant, we're already on the twenty second or third floor," Notaro replied. Gordon undoubtedly heard his men complaining in the background.

"I know, but saving the girl is our top priority right now. Just take the elevator back down. I've got units one and three moving in from my location. We'll get you up to speed," Gordon ordered.

* * *

><p>The moment the doors opened, Scabior spotted the man in the purple suit. After all, it wasn't hard to miss him when he was the center of attention. There was some commotion going on with the other muggles. Several windows were smashed, glass strewn everywhere. Scabior assumed it had to do with the threat the Joker made. Well, he was going to deliver on a promise of his own.<p>

To avoid any other distractions, Scabior conjured ropes and Silenced the Joker's men. Now everyone in the room turned their attention to him, including the Joker.

If the muggles were frightened before, they hadn't seen anything yet. Scabior ordered his two men to keep the other muggles under control. It was only fair that he met this man on his own, since Scabior had taken way his resources. He already had magic on his side.

Scabior also told his men not to harm the muggles, so long as they remained docile and harmless. In a world without wands, these muggles carried no other weapons with them. It seemed only the criminals were ever protected. Scabior was now sure these muggles could serve some other use. If he Imperiused them all, they could act against the other muggles who were out to get him. In any case, Scabior could get more out of them alive than dead. He was changing up his game to match his rival.

But now as he walked towards the Joker, he sensed something was off. What was missing?

Then it dawned on him. Greenwood and O'Brien. And by the look on the Joker's face, he knew where they were.

"Ah, you made it. I'm so _thrilled_," the Joker said to Scabior, despite the fact that Scabior had just single-handedly disabled all of his men.

"Where are they?" Scabior asked angrily.

"What's the time?" the Joker asked in response.

It took all of Scabior's self-control to not _Avada Kedavra_ the muggle right then and there.

"The bloody hell are you on about?" Scabior snapped.

"Well, depending on the time, they may be in one spot or _several_," the Joker mimed with his hands, nodding at Scabior pointedly.

Scabior narrowed his eyes. So the sodding bloke had his men somewhere with those damned muggle contraptions, and there was some sort of bloody timer. Great, these muggles were becoming more sophisticated by the minute.

"I'm not going to play your bloody game," Scabior raised his wand. He would get him to reveal where his men were, one way or another. "_Crucio_."

The Joker collapsed to the ground, as Scabior anticipated. But to his horror, he began laughing uncontrollably as he rolled around the ground. Scabior had seen nothing like it before. No one reacted this way, muggle or wizard.

Shocked, Scabior was unable to continuing casting the spell. What the bloody hell was wrong with this muggle?

And then Scabior finally realized that the Joker had planned for him to come here. Somehow he had captured Greenwood and O'Brien and then used them to lure him here. Scabior was used to setting traps, not falling in them. So how did this muggle manage to outsmart him at every turn? How did Scabior end up like this, with only two of his men left?

"Why?" Scabior spat at the Joker, who had pulled himself back up. "Why are you doing this?"

"I wanted to see what you would do," the Joker replied. "And you didn't disappoint. You let two of your men die. There's only, what, five of you left, from whenever you arrived? Even to a guy like me, that's sad."

The Joker's taunts boiled Scabior's blood again. It reminded him of his short-comings. He shouldn't have lost any men to these muggles.

"_Crucio_," Scabior seethed, taking his anger out on the Joker.

But he gained no satisfaction from it, as the Joker only knelt on the floor this time, laughing all the while. Disgusted, Scabior lifted the spell again. The muggle wasn't resisting it, no, he was embracing the torture curse. Scabior couldn't use it on him, not when he actually enjoyed it.

"Oh, there's only minutes left, so you're going to have to play my little game if you want to save one of them," the Joker said.

"Them?" Scabior repeated in confusion.

"You know, for awhile there, I thought you two really were a pair," the Joker licked his lips, as it dawned on Scabior. The mudblood. "The way you _threw_ yourself at her at that cafe."

For some reason, this enraged Scabior more than anything the Joker had done up until now. Hermione was his to capture, not this crazy muggle! Scabior could care less about his men. They were replaceable. But the mudblood, she was one of a kind. She had been solely on Scabior's mind for the last couple of months. He had focused everything on her. Without her, his work was done. Without her, he failed.

And all this time he had let this muggle distract him, interfere with his real goal.

Slashing his wand, Scabior lifted the Joker and threw him into the nearest table, knocking over glasses of champagne that shattered on the floor. The guests, who were all but wallflowers up until now, shrieked in response. In his rage, Scabior cast the Killing Curse on those nearest him. That shut up the rest of the muggles.

"You have nothing, nothing to threaten me with. Nothing to do with all your _magic_," the Joker managed to choke out through his laughter.

"Where are they?" Scabior shouted. He had no other way of gleaning the information he needed. He had always relied on the Cruciatus curse and other torture devices.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna tell you where they are. Both of them. And that's the point. You'll have to choose," the Joker grinned at Scabior. He set up a twisted game. "The guys are at 250 52nd and she's on Avenue X, at Cicero."

Scabior made a silent promise to take revenge later, even though he wanted to inflict as much pain on this man as possible. But he couldn't let himself get distracted again. He turned to his men.

"Martin, you go after Greenwood and O'Brien," Scabior ordered. "Buckland, you stay here and keep an eye on this filthy muggle. If he gets away, you best not think of sticking around either. And Martin, if you don't make it in time, you'll be in whatever state Greenwood and O'Brien are."

* * *

><p>AN: Phew, that was a difficult chapter to write - lots of people to keep track of! At the same time, it was SO much fun. Mmm, I love me some Joker. And poor cops, eh? I know I'd be questioning my own reality if I was them. Or I'd just say, hey obviously we have witches and wizards here. :D Don't worry, we'll come back to Batman and Hermione in the next chapter. I know I left them hanging...literally! Hehe, pun intended. Still keeping it relatively true to the movie, but don't worry, much of it will be different. ;-) Anyway, just wondering, what kind of ending do you guys want? Because I think I'm pretty close. I'm curious. Leave a review!

Lily - thanks! I hope you loved this chapter, too. :0)


	11. Thinking About You

"I…want these ropes off. I want them off. I want these ropes off," the Joker stared plainly at Buckland, as he sat on the floor.

Both the Joker's hands and ankles were bound with rope. Buckland wasn't going to take any chances with him, even if he was a muggle. He was too unhinged, too unpredictable. Buckland was known for taking precautions, at least more so than the other men. That was why he had made it so far, when some of his other friends had paraded off, overly confident in their abilities. They had all underestimated this muggle. Forsaking vanity and pride, Buckland refused to make the same mistake.

"That's nice," Buckland replied in his most even tone. He wasn't going to let the muggle get to him. Reacting hadn't worked out very well for Scabior.

"How many of your friends have I killed?" the Joker asked, as if out of mere curiosity. He didn't take anything seriously.

"I've been doing this for almost a year, mate. I can tell the difference between blokes who need a little lesson in manners, and the freaks like you who would just enjoy it," Buckland replied. And from what he'd seen with Scabior, the Joker would undoubtedly enjoy being Cursed. But the Joker's question nevertheless had its intended effect; Buckland couldn't help but think of his dead comrades. "And you and your lot've killed seven."

"Seven?" the Joker mouthed back, pretending to be surprised. It was a high number indeed and sorely pathetic on their part.

But Buckland would maintain his composure. The Joker was clearly baiting him. If he resisted, then he'd be avoiding any traps. And if it got to him, he could always Silence the Joker. The only reason he didn't Silence him now was because he would be admitting defeat to the Joker. Buckland was going to show him he was actually above such tactics.

Five minutes later, the Joker spoke again.

"Do you want to know why I used a knife on your friend? Guns and bombs are too quick. You can't savor all the... little _emotions_. In... you see, in their last moments, people show you who they really are. So in a way, I know your friend better than you ever did." He paused and turned to Buckland smugly. "Would you like to know if he was a coward?"

That crossed the line. Something in Buckland snapped, thinking about how the Joker had carved up Yorke like a Christmas ham. How dare this muggle humiliate his friends in and after their deaths and with a barbaric weapon no less!

Though Buckland had told himself not to get involved, not to care, he couldn't stop himself this time. Besides, the Joker was tied up on the ground, while Buckland had his wand. If he somehow lost control, he'd deserve it.

And he wasn't planning on casting a Silence charm.

"I know you're gonna enjoy this, so I'll just have to enjoy it even more," Buckland rolled up his sleeves as he started towards the Joker.

Normally, he would resort to Curses, but the muggle seemed utterly unperturbed by magic, and Buckland was determined to take out his anger. He had to give it to the muggles. They fought barbarically, but it was utterly satisfying. Sure, wizards could pour their feelings into spells, but there was something about physically beating the hell out of someone. It was what the Weasley twins felt when they tackled Malfoy on the Quidditch pitch. It was what the Joker wanted. It was reacting.

* * *

><p>Martin knew to cast a Shielding charm whenever he got close to the building. Scabior had taught them all that, though Greyback hadn't casted his quickly enough. Martin wasn't sure if his reflexes were any better, but at least he had fair warning here.<p>

After Scabior's command and threat, which Martin and the rest of the Snatchers were used to, as that was how Scabior operated, Martin had Disapparated to the street below. All it took was questioning a muggle where 250 52nd was. He was rubbish at Legilimency, though, so direct Apparition was out of the question. Torture, like with all the other guys, was more of his forte. So Martin cast the Four-Point Spell. Instead of walking, he Apparated along the way. It wasn't as fast as directly Apparating there, but it was certainly more efficient than walking.

However, despite his speed, by the time he arrived in front of the building, it was already in ashes.

"That's not bloody possible," Martin cursed out loud.

The wanker had given him less than five minutes to get there! How could he have known Martin would get there so fast? No, the muggle must have meant for him to fail, meant to kill Greenwood and O'Brien.

That was the last thought he had before the tranquilizer dart landed in his neck.

* * *

><p>Buckland didn't know that the Joker had several knives in his pockets. Scabior had only Disarmed him of the one he was holding earlier. Nor did he know that the Joker had used one of said knives to cut the ropes around his wrists. After all, he looked like he was tied up. And Buckland couldn't have possibly known that the Joker was quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat.<p>

All in all, falling for the Joker's taunts was the worst mistake of Buckland's life.

The Joker didn't take any chances with Buckland. He knew that the Snatcher could use his wand before the Joker got a hold of it. So he made it quick and slit the wizard's throat the moment Buckland reached down for him.

It was a pity, really, that he couldn't take his time with the kill.

Then he stood up and brushed himself off. He had to keep his suit clean. It had cost him quite a bit.

He looked around at the gaping guests. Oh, right, the herd was still there. It was so hard to notice them because they were such _wallflowers_.

Fortunately, the Joker was somewhat of a shepherd.

"Well, looks like they weren't lying about the _magic_, hmm?" the Joker licked his lips. "See, _I'm_ not the bad guy here - they are! But now that you've all seen it for your_selves_, you should really go and spread the word. There's only two of them left _now_, but there'll be more coming soon."

The herd continued to stare at them. Had they gone brain dead? No, they had always been that.

Irritated, the Joker picked up one of the guns on the ground and sprayed the ceiling, causing many of them to jump. So there _was_ still something going on in those pathetically empty heads.

"Go!" the Joker growled.

He accomplished in one word what he had first attempted with many. The herd dispersed.

"And this is why I don't ever do things the _nice_ way," the Joker muttered.

* * *

><p>Unlike Martin, Scabior was a bit more skilled and indeed used Legilimency to find out where Hermione was. In any other circumstance, he would have wanted to torture the muggle, but time was of the essence. For all he knew, the mudblood could have already been blown to pieces. Even though she had teamed up with that freak, he had no qualms killing her off. In fact, he had blown up an entire room of muggles that were probably his allies. Scabior assumed that was why they were there. After fighting on her side in the morning, the Joker betrayed her in the afternoon.<p>

It was unfathomable how psychotic the Joker was. He even enjoyed pain! And he treated everyone with the same apathy. Scabior was bad - okay, more than bad - but even he wasn't capable of shutting down his emotions. For instance, here he was going to save the mudblood instead of his own men. And why?

Because…until now he had never admitted it to himself, but he actually _liked_ the girl. How else had she gotten so far? It had been weeks, several hunts worth, since there had been another number besides her. Sure, the others had been easy to hunt, but Hermione wasn't that much better. Scabior had almost had her several times, but he had always let her barely slip away. In some of those instances, he had blamed one of his men. Other times, he had told himself that it wouldn't be fun if he killed her. There would be no one else to hunt. His men had somewhat grudgingly agreed with that logic. Hunting was more fun than Snatching, even. So besides some teasing, Scabior had always let her go.

The truth was that she wasn't just any other number. She was special. Scabior had never known anyone else like her. And though he wanted to take his teasing further, he never had. Deep down inside, he was afraid of doing something drastic, of ruining what already existed. What if it permanently changed her?

So he wasn't willing to kill her, nor would he torture her in any way. To be honest, Scabior wasn't sure what he would do if he ever had her completely cornered. Take her captive? No, there was no better option, no alternative to hunting her.

Until now, that strategy had worked. But then that muggle had to come along and screw it all up. Scabior didn't lose men. Scabior didn't lose prey. Yet somehow he had almost lost it all.

Hell if he was going to lose her.

But what was he going to do when he got to her? Save her and say, "Hey, I know the whole point of this is to kill you, and I really do enjoy torturing and killing muggles and mudbloods, but I kinda wanna keep up what we have here?"

No, saving her was going to change everything.

Cursing bitterly, Scabior Disapparated.

* * *

><p>The moment Batman felt the zip line go limp, he spread out the wings of his cape. Unfortunately, there wasn't any soft landing. Bracing himself, though he had recently pulled off a similar stint while capturing Scarecrow, Batman aimed for an empty Honda Civic. Not too expensive. When his feet connected with the roof of the car, Batman quickly bent his knees to reduce the impact. It didn't hurt much, but the car was demolished. Oh, well. Collateral damage.<p>

During his fall, he had been watching the Joker's men closely. Though they reached the ground at approximately the same time, the Joker's men had a truck ready. Before they whisked Hermione away, Batman shot a tracking device onto the side of the truck. Then, with the push of a few buttons, Batman called for his Batmobile, which was hidden in an alley a few blocks away. He also had the truck's plates memorized, so it would easy following it.

In the few minutes while he waited, Gordon, who had made his way down, approached Batman.

"You're going after her?" Gordon asked.

To Gordon, it looked like Batman was abandoning everyone at Bruce Wayne's fundraiser for a girl who was in cahoots with the Joker. Though Batman didn't know it, not yet, leaving the party meant he could never go back. He was the only one capable of saving those people, and he had left.

"I know you think she's working for him, but she's not," Batman rasped.

Gordon shook his head.

"That's not the problem," Gordon replied. "Something's happened up there. No one can access the penthouse anymore. My men tried all the elevators, and I almost let them try the staircase, but I didn't want to break the news to them yet. What would they think?"

"What are you saying? That one of those…Snatchers is up there?" Batman said, now realizing the dilemma.

Would he abandon the privileged citizens of Gotham for a girl he barely knew? And a witch at that. Batman had reacted on instinct. If he had known the guests would be in danger, he might have stayed.

"Either that or the girl did it," Gordon said grimly.

"No, she didn't," Batman spoke up for Hermione. "I was watching her the whole time."

It was true. When he had entered the party as Bruce Wayne, he had immediately looked for Hermione. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was beautiful, but there was something else about her, the tragedy, the mystery, that called out to Batman. She was like him, and yet she was entirely different. And now the Joker's men had her.

"I have to go after her," Batman rasped, as his car pulled up next to him.

"What about all those people?" Gordon exclaimed. He had thought Batman would help him figure this out. "I already told my men to go after her!"

"If what you're saying is true, there's nothing we can do for everyone up there," Batman replied. "But you should call your men back. They can do more good here if those Snatchers come down. Have them take them by surprise."

Gordon bristled. He didn't like being told what to do, but Batman's logic rang true. Batman got into his car.

"And what do I tell them?" Gordon demanded. "They'll think I'm nuts!"

"You won't have to tell them anything," Batman replied as he started his engine. "They'll see for themselves."

* * *

><p>Hermione was absolutely indignant.<p>

After the sheer terror of zooming down a zip line, Hermione's anger had overpowered her fear. And it wasn't even that bad, now that Hermione had "experience" riding a broom. Now that she thought about it, Hermione still had her beaded bag tucked safely at the bottom of her pocket. The Joker must have missed it when he was rummaging for her wand.

The thought of the Joker's betrayal only further infuriated Hermione. Once they landed on the ground, she began squirming in earnest, punching and kicking all around her.

However, it wasn't very difficult for his men to restrain her.

Hermione opened her mouth to scream. Bad decision. Her mouth was immediately stuffed with some cloth, and a sack was pulled over her head. Now she could neither see nor speak. Jostled around, she was shoved rudely into the back of a truck; Hermione could feel the familiar jerk from the truck moving. Without a seatbelt or free hands, she topped into whoever was sitting next to her. Thankfully the man grunted and readjusted her to sit upright again.

Hermione wanted so badly to ask where they were taking her and what they were going to do. She was sure that the Joker didn't want to kill her, since they could have got on with it already. It was more likely that he wanted to draw out Scabior. But if he found her in this state, she was just as good as dead.

With a lack of options, Hermione focused on trying silent, wandless magic to break the ropes that bound her wrists.

It was hopeless.

Then, out of nowhere, Hermione felt herself flying into someone, who yelped in pain. The driver was losing control as the truck swerved left and right. Hermione was being thrown around like a rag doll; she couldn't anticipate what would come next. And then finally someone had the sense to hold her down so she wouldn't seriously injured anyone. The truck continued to swerve recklessly and then suddenly stopped. For a split second, Hermione thought the worst was over. And then the truck began to flip over.

"How ironic," Hermione thought bitterly as she felt the nauseating disorientation that came with somersaulting in complete darkness. "I've survived every hunt only to be killed in a car accident."

However, Hermione didn't die from the impact. There were definitely going to be bruises, but other than that, she was fine. Unfortunately, so were her fellow passengers.

She could hear the doors open. Was she going to be moved to another vehicle? Then the men started yelling. There was some fighting going on; yes, she could hear the sickening crunch of bones breaking.

That could only mean that Batman was here.

Hermione wanted to help, just as she'd promised, but she was useless without her wand. Though she supposed she should be grateful that Batman came to save her, she hated being a damsel in distress. She had told Batman and Gordon that she could fight, that she could handle more than her own, and yet here she was tied up, blind and mute. It was humiliating. Her credibility was ruined, especially with this being their first impression of her. After all, she was a witch! And even that meant nothing in the midst of the Joker. She could see why Scabior and the other Snatchers weren't faring so well. That was about the only positive thought Hermione had.

As usual, Batman fought with fervor. The Joker's men didn't stand a chance. Batman had entangled the truck's wheels with wire and then roped it around hydrants and street lights. He wasn't sure if it would work, but sure enough, the truck had given in, the metal screeching in protest.

After that, it was only a matter of clean-up.

When he finally cleared out the back of the truck, Batman knelt in front of Hermione. Besides her extremely ruffled hair, Hermione looked completely unscathed. He chuckled at the sight of her unkempt, bushy hair. She bristled at the sound of his laughter, taking offense to it. Even if she couldn't speak, Batman could tell she didn't like being saved by him. She didn't know he was just grateful that she was okay. He had been afraid that the crash would have injured her.

Ever so gently, Batman reached behind her and cut the ropes. She hastily removed the sack and cloth from her mouth before Batman could try.

"What was that all about?" Hermione glared at him. She didn't find the crash at all amusing.

"Oh, no 'thank you'?" Batman rasped light-heartedly.

Hermione pursed her lips and crossed her arms, which only made Batman chuckle some more.

"Thank you," she muttered, not making eye contact.

"Are you okay?" Batman asked seriously.

He tilted her chin so she was looking up at him. For a moment, her eyes were wide and innocent. She appeared so vulnerable. And then it was gone. The walls were back, and her eyes hardened just the slightest - enough to keep him at arm's length.

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but she didn't have an answer. What was she going to do? She couldn't simply Disapparate, nor could she find a place to stay. She was penniless. How would she find food to eat? Without her wand, Hermione was useless. Helpless. She was no different from any muggle on the street.

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "I need my wand back."

"We'll work on that later," Batman replied. "Let's first find you a place to sleep and some food."

* * *

><p>"What is he?"<p>

"What's this?"

"That's what the Joker had on T.V. He called it a wand! So he was telling the truth?"

"Course he was telling the truth! You saw how we couldn't get up to the penthouse - how do you explain that?"

"Didja here? Guests from Wayne's got here. The Joker just let them go. They're reporting that they saw magic."

"So it has to be real!"

Gordon sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. The Snatcher - sorry, British terrorist - they had caught was still lying unconscious in one of the holding cells. He was bound to wake up within the hour, and heavens knew what he would say.

Gordon had tried to keep all of this magic business under wraps, but with the fundraiser mishap, he wouldn't be surprised if the whole town knew by morning. Some people had called the Mayor, who was now on his way to the station. Gordon wouldn't be surprised if others had even called the FBI, but they were used to crazy tips. Gordon wasn't prepared for this meeting, not that he ever would be. He was going to sound insane.

He held the video tape that contained the surveillance footage from Cobblepot. When the Mayor got here, he was going to show him, and together they would decide what to do.

Gordon knew that if he showed his men and everyone who had come to the station, they would react badly. Xenophobes. And Gordon didn't blame them. These "wizards" were powerful and dangerous. What if this escalated to Washington D.C. and the President declared war? No, Gordon had to keep this a secret, at least for now. If he lost control of Gotham, he would tell someone. But if he told them now, he would surely lose control. And Gordon still wasn't sure what to do when the Snatcher awoke.

"Lieutenant," Detective Ramirez interrupted Gordon's thoughts. "The Mayor is here to see you."

Gordon nodded grimly. Ramirez looked at him hopefully, as if he would tell her what was going on, but Gordon stood up and left. Let them continue their discussion. No one had any footage of what happened at the fundraiser. All the cell phones and cameras had been dysfunctional. Without proof, their stories meant nothing. As far as Gordon knew, he had the only real proof.

"Mayor Garcia," Gordon greeted Garcia.

"Lieutenant," Garcia nodded in return. "What the hell is going on? Why am I getting calls about wizards and the Joker?"

"Let's go to my office," Gordon replied, holding the videotape anxiously. "We should really discuss this in private."

* * *

><p>When Scabior appeared in the abandoned warehouse, he immediately cast a full Shield charm.<p>

He looked around, but the mudblood was nowhere to be seen. Was he in the right place?

He didn't see any of those muggle contraptions either, but he wasn't taking any chances. Scabior walked cautiously with his wand out, protected by his Shield.

And then he heard a soft hissing sound. What was that?

"Who's there?" Scabior demanded loudly.

He expected the girl to be tied up somewhere. Had the nutter lured him here for Hermione to kill? The Joker obviously didn't know her very well then. She didn't have it in her to kill. It was yet another reason why Scabior found her so special, so endearing. Scabior knew she was utterly incorruptible.

And then Scabior saw the green smoke. Seconds later, everything went black.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm revealing the plan...little by little. What do you think's gonna happen? Oh, sorry about the confusion with the chapters - I consolidated/re-organized some of the earlier ones to make the story better. So if you've left a review previously while logged in, you won't be able to review again unless you log out (like do it anonymously). Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Do review :-)


	12. Optimistic

A/N: The last chapter, folks. And here...we...go!

* * *

><p>Batman was Bruce Wayne.<p>

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Hermione was shocked when Batman told her in his Batmobile. She would have recognized his penthouse anyway, but he wanted to break the news himself.

Her cheeks flushed bright red when she found out; Bruce asked her what she was blushing for. And of course Hermione blurted the truth, that she had thought Bruce was a selfish, ungrateful playboy. To her surprise, Bruce/Batman only chuckled in response, telling her that was good because it meant others believed it, too.

Yet the more she thought about it, the more obvious it was that Bruce should be Batman. Hermione should have connected the dots. If she were at Hogwarts, she would have realized it much sooner, but as it was, her mind was rather preoccupied in Gotham. She knew Batman had to be rich, like Bruce. In fact, she had commented on it when she had received the dress and jewelry. And it made sense why Batman had showed up later at the fundraiser - conveniently after Bruce had given his speech.

Maybe that's why Bruce had gazed at her.

Hermione blushed again at the thought of Batman being interested in her. He was handsome and noble - the two of them had the same sense of justice. And they were both ostracized from society. If the situation was different, Hermione would be very enamored with Bruce.

Except she realized immediately that their relationship would have to remain platonic. After all, Bruce was only a cover. He didn't have time to date, much like Hermione. Batman was the real Bruce, and Gotham needed him if people like the Joker roamed the streets. Likewise, Hermione was needed in the magical community. She was supposed to be helping Harry.

And now she finally had time to plan it out. Once this was all over and she was free of Scabior, however that happened, she would focus on getting rid of the Mark on the back of her neck. Of course, she would need her wand to do that. She supposed retrieving it from the Joker would be her top priority. Ironically, she hadn't the faintest clue how to do that without her wand.

A faint knock interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione wrapped the soft, cashmere bath robe around herself as she padded over to the door of her bedroom. Though she had just woken up and showered, it was quite late. She had slept in, what with the long night she had, and the plush king-sized bed didn't help. Well, it did with sleeping.

"Would you be having breakfast?" Alfred smiled warmly at her. "I thought I heard the shower."

"Oh, that would be lovely," Hermione blushed. "My clothes are still in the wash, though, I believe."

"We're not always formal around here," Alfred winked at her.

With that, Hermione followed Alfred to the dining room.

"Good morning, Hermione," Bruce stood up the moment she entered the room. He flashed her a charismatic smile. Any other woman would have swooned, but Hermione returned a tentative smile. "Or afternoon, I suppose."

It was wrong, really, having such a young woman sleep over in his home, but Bruce didn't have those kind of intentions. And she wasn't just any girl.

At the same time, Rachel hadn't been on his mind ever since he met Hermione. Though unconventional, maybe this was right for both of them. After all, Rachel had Harvey, and Bruce didn't want to interfere with their relationship.

"Morning," Hermione replied.

She sat down eagerly at the table, which was full of croissants, bagels, all sorts of jams and jellies, fresh fruit, sausages, poached eggs, bacon, yogurt, cereal, freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee. It was a feast unlike anything Hermione had seen in awhile. She never ate this well in the woods or on her own in the city.

"Alfred wasn't sure what you preferred for breakfast," Bruce chuckled.

"Um, everything looks great," Hermione gave a short laugh in return.

For once, she actually rivaled Ron's intensity eating at breakfast. Old Hermione would have been appalled.

"Sorry I'm without manners this morning," Hermione apologized after about ten minutes of stuffing her face. She wiped her mouth with the napkin. "It reminds me of one of my best friends, who ate like this all the time."

"At school?" Bruce asked curiously, taking a bite out of his bagel.

"Yeah," Hermione replied. She hadn't meant to think about Ron.

"Is he…okay?" Bruce hesitated to ask.

"The last I heard," Hermione said. "I would know if he wasn't."

"Is he the one who can stop the war?" Bruce replied.

Hermione was surprised Bruce remembered so much.

"No, that's my other best friend, Harry. Ron is the one who eats like a pig," Hermione said.

She didn't mention that she liked Ron much more than a friend, that if he were here, she would run into his arms in a heartbeat. It didn't matter anymore. There was no point in dwelling on hopes and fantasies.

"What is this war about?" Bruce asked. He had been meaning to ask her.

"It's complicated," Hermione sighed. She supposed this was the best time to talk about it, in detail anyway. "A really evil wizard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, nearly took over our world a few decades ago. He believed that pure-blooded wizards and witches should rule, while the half-bloods and Muggle-born should be rooted out."

Bruce took a moment to ponder what all of that meant. All the talk of pure-blood and half-blood reminded him of Hitler and his maniacal idea of purifying the Aryan race. It also explained why Hermione was on the other side, or more specifically what those sides were. It was strange to think that a war was going on as they spoke and with the backwards ideologies reminiscent of World War II.

"We had someone like that," Bruce nodded solemnly. "He tried to purify the German race and started a World War."

"Right," Hermione replied. She was quite familiar with Muggle history. "You-Know-Who is very similar to Hitler in that way."

"Why don't you say his name?" Bruce asked.

"It used to be that everyone was too afraid of him to speak his name," Hermione explained. "Harry always said his name, as did I. But now it's been Taboo-ed, meaning if I say it, Snatchers will immediately know where I am."

"Sounds sort of arrogant," Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Putting a ban on the name."

"Trust me, it's not that common of a name," Hermione reassured him. "Anyway, he supposedly died when he tried to kill Harry when he was a baby. The Killing Curse backfired, the first it's ever happened."

"Why did he want to kill your friend if he was only a baby?" Bruce interrupted her.

"There was a prophecy that Harry would have the power to vanquish You-Know-Who," Hermione replied. "For awhile everything went back to normal. But then You-Know-Who came back and broke his followers out of Azkaban - our prison. And now we're back to the way things were."

"How did he come back if he supposedly died?" Bruce asked. He didn't quite understand the prophecy bit either, but he took Hermione's word for it. There was so much he didn't know.

"I don't know," Hermione replied honestly. "I think I did know before I lost my memory. I must have known."

Bruce also didn't understand how Hermione had lost some of her memories. Magic, it seemed, could accomplish almost anything.

"Your world sounds confusing," Bruce reached across the table for Hermione's hand.

She immediately withdrew her hand into her lap.

"Sorry," Bruce apologized immediately.

He hadn't meant to be so forward. He legitimately felt a strong connection with Hermione, not to mention he found her quite attractive in one of his bath robes, hair wet and tousled.

"No, it's just," Hermione paused to gather her thoughts. "This has all been a bit much. You know, sleeping over and everything. I mean it was really kind of you to have me over, but I think I should maybe spend some time alone."

"I see," Bruce's smile faded.

What did he expect from her? She was young enough to still be a senior in high school. Though she was stunning, with what she said about her world being in turmoil it was unlikely she had any experience with relationships. So far, she had only even mentioned two friends. And here Bruce was expecting her to respond like any woman his age. Hermione was uncomfortable and rightfully so. Bruce felt deeply ashamed.

"Sorry," Hermione said in a small voice, misinterpreting Bruce's cold demeanor.

"No, I completely understand how you feel," Bruce replied. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position. If you'd like, once your clothes are ready, I can arrange for a car and hotel."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at Bruce.

"I didn't mean-" Bruce began, realizing the innuendo.

"I'm just joking," Hermione laughed. "And yes, I would like that. That's very generous of you."

* * *

><p>For a few minutes, Mayor Garcia was absolutely silent.<p>

Gordon was afraid he had gone catatonic.

"We…we have to tell someone," Garcia stammered, wringing his hands. "The FBI. CIA. Homeland Security."

"You can do that, but I don't think we should tell anyone in Gotham," Gordon replied. "The city would turn to chaos, like on Fear Night."

People didn't mention Fear Night anymore. It was an unspoken taboo. Hearing it from Gordon, though, reminded Garcia of that fateful evening. It had been everybody's nightmare. Garcia didn't want a replay of that, not ever again, not on any level, and Gordon knew it.

"Then what do we tell them?" Garcia replied.

"That what they saw was an illusion, that it wasn't really magic," Gordon shrugged. "I don't know. Tell them whatever you want, but not the truth. And we hide this videotape from them. Without proof, no one will believe their stories, not even if there's fifty of them spouting the same story. You know as well as I do that people don't want to believe. People always question."

Garcia nodded. He seemed at a loss for words.

"But you said you caught one," Garcia gulped. "W-what do we do with him?"

"Isolate him in solitary confinement," Gordon said. "Keep him away from the other officers. He's to have no visitors. I don't want him spewing about magic. Once we hear back from whoever it is you call, we'll know what to do."

Garcia nodded again. He stood up slowly, mechanically.

"Mayor?" Gordon asked. Garcia paused in the doorway and turned to him. "Everything's going to be okay."

"Everything would be okay if we were only facing the Joker," Garcia replied.

* * *

><p>Grumpy spotted her first. Or maybe it was Chuckles. The Joker didn't remember names. His men were supposed to keep the same masks, but when one died, which happened quite a bit in this kind of industry, the mask was passed onto another, and the Joker couldn't keep track of all that.<p>

All that mattered was that they _found_ _her_.

She had really done a disappearing act on him and all with_out_ magic. The Joker was irritated, but at the same time he was proud. He took credit in instilling some confidence in the girl. The Joker played with her wand in his hand. It was a stick, it was nothing, and yet it was her.

Scabior on the other hand had been brimming over with confidence. Even with magic and all his men, he had failed tremendously. He de_served_ what was coming for him.

And yet the Joker couldn't help but giggle at the memory of Hermione pushed up against him, _trusting_ him. She certainly must have had little experience in dating for how hopelessly naive she was. It was _cu_-te.

"Wake up, little miss sunshine," the Joker sang to Hermione. He patted her cheek with a note of affection.

Hermione stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. Her vision blurred for a few moments, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Where was she? And then she remembered.

She had gotten in her chauffeured car, after reassuring Bruce that he didn't need to accompany her. He had more important duties, after all. On the way to the hotel, she had spotted a grocery store and had asked her driver to stop so she could pick up a few things.

And she had never made it back to the car.

One of the Joker's men must have recognized her. It wasn't hard for them to capture her, either, since she was without her wand. It was ridiculous how much control the Joker had over Gotham, though that wasn't exactly new to her.

Hermione glared at the Joker, now fully alert. The whole kidnapping and being tied up act was getting old now.

"Give me my wand back," Hermione demanded.

Ooh, she was even cut-_er_ when she was angry.

"Sure, _you_ just have to kill your ex-boyfriend here," the Joker replied.

Hermione hadn't even noticed that there was another person in the room. Granted, there was a sack over his head. The Joker walked over and removed it, revealing none other than Scabior. The Joker also untied the cloth that gagged him.

Though Hermione absolutely detested the man, she couldn't help but take pity on him. His hair, usually pulled back in a ponytail, was disheveled. There were bruises all over his face and body and he sported a black eye. The Joker must have done a number on him. She couldn't even detect his usual swagger. The wizard in front of her was completely dejected. He couldn't even look at her.

The Joker slid a knife across the concrete floor, which stopped directly in front of Hermione.

"I'm not going to kill him," Hermione said quietly.

But Scabior must have already known that. Hermione didn't kill. Something told her that the Joker was aware of that as well, which was why he was doing this.

"Why not?" the Joker shrugged. "_He_ kills people, innocent people! I thought _you_ had a problem with that."

"Well of course I do," Hermione protested.

"Then why not kill him? Think of how many lives you'd be saving," the Joker waved his hands in the air theatrically. The same logic had nearly worked at the fundraiser.

"Honestly, he's not in great shape," Hermione said. "I don't see him killing anyone anytime soon."

"Because he's tied up right now," the Joker licked his lips. "But if I were to set him _free_…"

He trailed off and gave Hermione a knowing nod.

Hermione knew Scabior could acquire more men. She also knew that the Joker was right in that she would be saving more lives if she killed him. It didn't matter though. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

"I tried to save you, you know," Scabior finally spoke.

His voice sounded strange. The Scabior Hermione was used to always spoke in a taunting tone. But now Scabior spoke quietly, though with a hint of his usual dryness.

"Save me?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Oh yes," the Joker said. "What an interesting _revelation_. And you told me he wasn't your ex-boyfriend! You see, Scabior here chose to save _you_, his little girlfriend, over his own men. Can you believe that? Even to a guy like me, that's _cold_."

It took Hermione a couple of seconds to comprehend what the Joker had said. Scabior only scowled, looking off to the side.

"You mean he came after me to kill me, not save me," Hermione shook her head. It didn't make sense any other way.

Scabior switched his focus to the ceiling. The Joker raised an eyebrow, knowing full well Scabior's silence was his admission.

"You saved me," Hermione said, staring at Scabior.

This time his gaze met hers.

"Apparently not," Scabior replied sarcastically.

"But…but you detest muggle borns," Hermione sputtered.

"Mudbloods," Scabior corrected her.

"See! Your sole purpose is to hunt and kill me," Hermione said indignantly.

"Technically I don't have to kill you," Scabior retorted.

"But why wouldn't you want to if you hate me!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Because I don't," Scabior said.

"Don't what?" Hermione asked.

"Don't hate you," Scabior said quietly.

There was an awkward pause.

"Well I," Hermione began, meaning to tell Scabior that she did in fact hate him.

But she couldn't quite say the words. Sure, he was utterly despicable. He probably deserved to die for all of his past deeds. Yet after all she had been through, Hermione's heart hadn't changed. She couldn't make a life or death judgement and she certainly wasn't capable of hate. She by no means liked him. In fact, she heavily disliked him. But her disdain was mixed with pity. In the end, she was all he had. That was why he had risked his life for her.

The Joker didn't like how this was going. Not. At. All. She was supposed to tell him that _she _hated _him_. She was _not_ supposed to go all quiet and googly-eyed. He flicked his wrist, extending the blade of the knife he was holding, and started walking towards Scabior. He'd carve him up and see how she liked him then.

Scabior didn't see the knife, but he saw the pity in Hermione's eyes. His eyes narrowed. He hated that look.

"You think you're so much better," Scabior spat. "But where are your friends? They never tried to save you like I did, beautiful. They abandoned you."

The Joker stopped and cocked his head to the side. He retracted the blade, sticking the knife back in his pocket. Maybe he would allow their conversation to continue a little longer. He wanted to see where this was going. The Joker knew nothing about Hermione's "friends," so he couldn't use it as material. This, though, was great. It could work.

"They have more important things to do," Hermione shot back.

Hermione was glad that Harry, Ron and the rest of the Order hadn't been foolish enough to try and save her. But at the same time, Scabior's comment stung. As far as Hermione knew, her friends had never even lifted a finger in an attempt to find her. The fact that the Head Snatcher should be the only one to care about Hermione's well-being, except of course for a muggle man who dressed up as a bat at night, spoke volumes for Hermione's friends, or lack thereof. Hermione hadn't known companionship in awhile, which explained her situation. Before the war, she wouldn't have even considered talking to a psychopath serial killer who dressed up as a clown, much less befriending one. Yet here she was, with the Joker as her only friend, though they were currently in a fight as far as Hermione was concerned, and Batman and Scabior as her potential love interests.

Hermione wondered briefly what kind of friends she would have had if she had never met Harry and Ron.

"That's right. They have important matters to tend to, yet you're supposedly the brains of the Trio," Scabior replied scathingly. "I wonder how they're getting on without you. You'd think they would have at least attempted to get you back."

"I'm…I'm glad they didn't," Hermione said, but her self-consciousness was in the air.

"Oh, I don't think they left you behind because you wanted them to, love," Scabior continued, grinning at her. "I think they believe everything the Ministry has said about you. They think you're one of us."

"Harry and Ron would never believe such lies," Hermione replied angrily.

"Wouldn't they?" Scabior replied. "All your other so-called friends did. You know, the ones who tried to kill you."

Now this _was_ getting interesting. The Joker regretted all of the potential conversations he had lost when he had left Hermione back at the Mob meeting. Okay, so left was an understatement. But friends turned murderous? A government spreading lies about her? She was more special than the Joker had originally presumed.

"Harry and Ron know me better than anyone else," Hermione said stubbornly.

"Better than your own parents? Where are they exactly? Oh that's right, you don't even know if they're alive or not," Scabior went on brutally.

Hermione didn't have an answer to that. The Joker could tell she was close to the edge.

"Does it depress you to know just _how_ alone you really are?" the Joker crooned.

And he was right.

Hermione couldn't help it. The tears formed in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks against her will. She had been doing such a great job of not thinking about her parents or Harry or Ron. Having it all thrown at her like this was too much. She was finally coming to terms with her isolation, her abandonment, her loneliness.

For the first time in his life, the Joker stifled the urge to jump up and down in glee because he knew it would ruin the moment. She was actually crying! He had torn down her walls, and he wanted them to stay down. Well, Scabior did most of the work because he happened to know her much better than the Joker did. For some reason, the Joker found that incredibly irritating.

"I get it," Hermione replied, her voice strangled. "I'm no more worse off than you. At the moment, I've got nobody either."

Scabior stared at her, but didn't say anything. He felt awkward watching her cry. He had never made her weep before. He could think of a thousand more cruel things to say, but he didn't want to anymore. Nor was he able to offer any words of comfort. So he sat there, waiting for her to continue.

"But I'm not going to go and….and just kill someone because I've hit rock bottom," Hermione glared at the Joker. She turned her gaze to Scabior. "And I'm not going to forget how many friends of mine you've killed."

"Oh let's not pretend you're completely innocent," Scabior retorted. "What about poor what's-his-name…Justin, was it?"

Hermione's cheeks reddened. The Joker's eyes flickered between the two curiously. Who was this Justin?

"That's right, you left him to die," Scabior snarled. "So who really killed him love - you or me?"

Up until now, the Joker didn't know that Hermione had even that much in her. She almost seemed to have the exact same moral code as Batman, except she was much more interesting. The Joker wanted to see how far he could take this. His stint with the Snatchers was nearly over, and he couldn't go back to Gotham. No, that clientele was ruined for him. Besides the fact that he had single-handedly blown up the Mob, they were much too boring. He had finally gotten here, but he wanted to see where else it could lead.

"What do you want me to say?" Hermione snapped. "That I made a decision that resulted in his death? I didn't have many options because of you!"

"Don't hate me," Scabior replied. "Hate the hunt."

Hermione sighed in exasperation and turned to the Joker.

"So what is it then?" she demanded. "Everyone knows full well that I'm not going to kill Scabior. Do you have some twisted game planned out so if I don't kill Scabior a hundred innocent people will die? Hmm?"

The Joker looked bemused. So she might have him pegged. He did have a detonator in his pocket in case this got boring and he needed to motivate her.

"Because that argument isn't going to work with me anymore," Hermione continued angrily. "It's not my fault that my friends don't know whose side I'm on. The Ministry spread lies about me. Nor is it my fault that Justin died. He chose to attack me. It's not my fault that _anyone_ died because I wasn't the one who created the stupid hunt. Just like if you decide to blow up a hospital - it's ultimately your doing, not mine."

Actually the detonator was for a ferry, not the hospital. Though he did have quite the set-up at Gotham General… Hermione didn't even have to use her magical abilities to read his mind. She just seemed to get him. The Joker liked that.

"And if I decided to kill you right now because you wouldn't kill him?" the Joker pressed.

It was one thing to say that it wouldn't bother her, but quite another to prove it.

"You made this situation, not me," Hermione stared at him stone faced.

The Joker reached back into his pocket for his knife, but then changed his mind. He would get to that after he understood better what the end game was or could be.

"Well then, what would _you_ do right now if you had your wand back?" the Joker asked.

Hermione wasn't expecting him to ask her that. Scabior was also curious to know.

"First things first, I'd figure out a way to get rid of this Mark," Hermione flipped her ponytail, revealing the tattoo on her neck.

The Joker had wondered what that was about. If he had to guess, it either prevented her from escaping or was some sort of a tracking device, which essentially had the same purpose.

"That's easy enough," Scabior smirked. "I could do that for you."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. He was most likely lying to make Hermione believe that she needed him. She wasn't going to fall for that.

"You-Know-Who Marked me," Hermione said.

It sounded like a bad that's-what-she-said line to the Joker.

"He may have made your particular Mark, seeing as how you're special and all, but he doesn't make them all," Scabior explained. "I know the Counter-curse because I've made a few myself. It's not like the Dark Lord has all the time in the world for no name mudbloods."

Though Hermione hated the way Scabior dismissed muggle-borns, it sounded like he was telling the truth. She didn't understand how he could be so cold towards muggle-borns, yet have some twisted affection for her.

"Who is this guy you keep talking about and why all the uh _nicknames_?" the Joker interrupted.

"He's the supreme evil wizard of all time," Hermione replied. Scabior raised an eyebrow, amused at her definition. He supposed it was accurate. "He rules the Death Eaters and Snatchers."

"And the Ministry," Scabior added.

"And what's the difference between the two?" the Joker licked his lips.

He had heard Hermione mention Death Eaters before, but he had forgotten their role in everything. After all, he had only encountered the Snatching kind.

"Let's just say I'm not high enough on the ladder to be a Death Eater," Scabior replied. Then, seeing Hermione's incredulous look, "What? I can admit it. And it's not that insulting when you think of how looney some of them are, like that Lestrange hag."

"Death Eaters are You-Know-Who's inner circle supporters," Hermione explained.

The Joker had a lot to think about. And here he thought Scabior was the best they could offer. It explained why little miss sunshine was in her current predicament. There were more powerful ones who actually ran everything. It was relieving to know there was a bigger challenge ahead. This wasn't the end. It was the beginning.

"So what would you do then, if you had your uh little tattoo there re-moved?" the Joker asked.

"I'd return to England and help the Order," Hermione replied.

Scabior rolled his eyes. Of course she would.

"Which is…?" the Joker motioned for Hermione to continue.

"An organization that is fighting the Death Eaters. We are in a war you know," Hermione answered dryly.

Oh, the Joker hadn't known, but now he did. Now that he thought about it, he had never been to England before.

"Well then, what do you say we uh make a trip back to the Motherland?" the Joker grinned, stretching the scars on his face.

Hermione's immediate reaction was to say no, given her current physical state, but then she thought about the havoc the Joker had wreaked on the Snatchers. He was crazy and uncontrollable, but he was good at breaking down the system, benign or malicious. Gotham would be better off without him, while the Wizarding world would be improved upon with his skill in unleashing chaos. Besides, Hermione wasn't arrogant enough to think she could do it all on her own. She could barely trust the Joker, but she had learned that so long as everything was "fun" for him, he would play along. And she also knew him well enough now that she would never underestimate him again. With her wand back, she would regain her control.

"That all depends on whether or not Scabior gives me the Counter-curse," Hermione glanced at Scabior.

"Oh, he will," the Joker whipped out his knife again. He was going to enjoy torturing him for the information.

"I'll do better than that love," Scabior leered at her. "I'll perform the bloody spell."

The Joker frowned. Surely that wasn't necessary. He was supposed to watch the guy die today. He had been looking forward to it.

"And then what? Hand me over to You-Know-Who?" Hermione scoffed.

"Haven't you been paying attention?" Scabior rolled his eyes. "I didn't try to save you to turn you in. You don't think the Dark Lord would forgive me for losing all of my men now, would you? To a muggle, no less, oh and on top of me wanting to save you for…personal reasons."

"Looks like you've _really_ dug yourself into a hole then," the Joker reached down, grabbed Scabior's face and stuck the blade into his mouth.

"Stop!" Hermione commanded.

The Joker turned to Hermione slowly with an irritable look on his face and snapped, "What?"

"You would help us?" Hermione asked Scabior.

"Did you forget that this _wizard_ lost all of his men to a guy in a suit with a couple of guns and grenades?" the Joker squinted his eyes at Hermione as if she had lost her mind.

Normally he would discount the opinion of any other person and just go ahead and kill the guy. But the Joker admitted even to himself that he was wading in foreign waters. He would hold back only long enough to find out why Hermione didn't want Scabior killed. If he discovered that it had anything to do with her moral code, though, the Joker was going to resume his carving.

Hermione glared at the Joker, and Scabior used all of the self-control he could muster to ignore the Joker's comment.

"My only other option would be to go into hiding, with both sides trying to kill me," Scabior replied. "I'm not just coming along because I don't have the urge to kill you. I want immunity if your side wins."

"For all of your murders and unspeakable acts?" Hermione asked, aghast.

"See, he de_serves_ what's coming for him," the Joker said.

"Let's face it beautiful," Scabior smirked. "You need me. I may not be a Death Eater, but I know the ins and outs fairly well. I was making my way up."

The Joker growled and removed his knife, understanding Scabior's so-called importance. If it were up to him, he would simply extract everything they needed to know through torture. In that sense, he was quite similar to Scabior. Unfortunately the Joker hadn't an inkling what they were up against, and he doubted Hermione would be willing to feed him questions as he used his knife on Scabior.

The Joker wasn't used to not immediately getting his way, but he wasn't giving up either. Sooner or later Scabior would lose his usefulness. He'd slip up again, underestimate the Joker, and it would be his death. The Joker had liked how it was just him and Hermione in the beginning, and hell if he was going to be a third wheel. But he pretended to concede because the Joker knew how to bide his time.

"If you do in fact help me take down You-Know-Who, I suppose your hypothetical sentence could be reduced to a only couple of years in Azkaban," Hermione said.

"Couple of years in Azkaban! You can do better than that. Give me some kind of community service," Scabior wrinkled his nose.

"This is all assuming I have any say," Hermione said.

"You're the bloody brains of the Trio and best friend of Potter," Scabior grumbled. "If you don't have the power to save me, nobody does."

"Fine," Hermione replied. "But you two better behave yourselves, or I'm ditching you. No fighting and no killing."

They stared at her incredulously. No killing?

"I meant don't kill each other, not don't kill the Death Eaters," Hermione sighed. She could only expect so much out of them.

The Joker pulled out Hermione's wand and rolled it to her. Then he bent down and cut Scabior's ropes with one smooth movement.

"Well, now that that's settled," the Joker smiled at Scabior with his yellow teeth. He retrieved Scabior's wand from another pocket and handed it to him. "Welcome to the team."

* * *

><p>Gordon knocked hesitantly on the door of the Mayor's office. He had been summoned in haste, which could only mean that bad news awaited him. Someone was taking this situation seriously. Gordon just wasn't sure which department it was.<p>

"Come in," Garcia answered.

Gordon opened the door and stepped in. A young man and an older woman sat across from the Mayor, but stood up the moment Gordon entered the room. Both were wearing dark suits. The woman had her gray hair in a bun, and the man wore thick-rimmed glasses.

"Commissioner Gordon," the woman greeted Gordon.

" Lieutenant," Gordon corrected her.

The three exchanged looks before the Mayor cleared his throat.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Garcia motioned to the fourth and only empty chair.

Gordon sat down hesitantly. Though he had met with the Mayor that morning, all of a sudden it felt like ages ago. There were two mysterious strangers in the room, who seemed to have already talked to Garcia at length. Why else had the woman called him Commissioner?

"My name is Ruth Blackwell," Blackwell extended her hand to Gordon. She had a firm handshake. "I am the President of the Department of Magic, and this is my associate Derek Holm."

Gordon's arm fell limp. Department of Magic? This wasn't what he had expected.

"Your Mayor has informed us of the invasion of hostile British dark wizards," Blackwell spoke crisply. "Rest assured our agents are combing the city as we speak, and Holmes will communicate any necessary updates. We've taken custody of the wizard you captured and appreciate your help in notifying us. We'll take over from here."

With that, Blackwell and Holmes stood up and shook Mayor Garcia's hand. Gordon, however, wasn't about to let them leave.

"You can't just take my prisoner, who my men caught, and expect us to hand everything over," Gordon said angrily. He pushed back his chair loudly as he stood up. "We're the ones who've been handling the situation!"

Blackwell turned to Gordon and arched an eyebrow. Her cool demeanor was infuriating.

"Again, we appreciate all that you and your department have done and, more importantly, your understanding of the sensitivity of this matter," Blackwell nodded. "Unfortunately, we cannot involve any more of your kind. You see, normally only the President of the United States has access to information on our world. However, we have been affected by the war going on in the United Kingdom, though we officially have not involved ourselves. Gotham isn't the only muggle city to have experienced a Wizarding invasion. We therefore have had to change our policy to allow other municipal officials know of our existence. This way you and your Mayor can appropriately care for your citizens and notify us if the situation worsens."

"That's why you're the new Commissioner," Garcia added.

Gordon could tell Garcia liked being in a position of power. He probably felt as important as the President himself, having access to such confidential information. Gordon, on the other hand, was disgusted by Garcia's cowering display of leadership.

"And if I don't cooperate?" Gordon said. He still had the videotape.

Garcia looked horrified at Gordon's insubordinate attitude. Gordon could care less about a couple of witches and wizards wearing suits. He wanted to be able to do his job.

Blackwell smiled patronizingly. Holmes's expression remained stoic, as he waited patiently by the fireplace.

"If you interfere with our work, we will simply modify your memory, as we have to the muggles that attended Bruce Wayne's fundraiser, so that you have no recollection of magic whatsoever," Blackwell replied. She reached into her purse and pulled out a black, velvet drawstring bag.

The color drained from Gordon's face as he realized just how powerful these wizarding agents were. In the span of a few hours, he had lost all of his key witnesses.

"I can still tell people," Gordon said, though his voice shook. "And I have proof."

Holmes, who had stepped into the fireplace, grabbed a fistful of - was that powder? - from the bag Blackwell was holding. In a loud voice, he said "Department of Magic," and then he opened his hand over his head. Instead of having the powder rain over his hair, as Gordon and Garcia expected, he disappeared in a burst of green flames.

Gordon and Garcia could only gape in shock.

Blackwell followed suit and looked up at Gordon from her awkward, half crouching position.

"My dear boy, who would believe you?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "And as for your proof, we have already confiscated that tape of yours."

And with that, she, too, disappeared into the flames.

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne was worried. Actually, worried was an understatement. He was a nervous wreck. Ever since he had called Hermione's hotel room several hours ago and received no answer, he had been frantically trying to track her down. Locating her dead driver only worsened matters. And it didn't help that all of the surveillance cameras on the entire block had been destroyed.<p>

Alfred had eventually convinced him to come home, eat and rest before setting out again. Bruce needed to clear his mind.

He paced around the living room, wracking his brain for some clue of where the Joker might have taken her. He needed a lead, anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed a white envelope lying innocuously on the coffee table. That had not been there this morning.

Bruce opened his mouth to call for Alfred, but stopped. He figured he would read the letter first and then ask Alfred when he had brought it in.

A huge letter B had been scrawled on the front of the envelope in black. Did it stand for Bruce or Batman?

Bruce opened the envelope suspiciously and unfolded the parchment.

_Dear Bruce,_

_If you're reading this, then I have already left Gotham._

_Before you assume that the Joker has forced me to write this, let me assure you that I'm perfectly fine, and I have my wand back. How else would I have left this letter on your coffee table without opening a single door?_

_I feel terrible for leaving in such haste and without bidding you farewell, but I had no choice if I was going to protect your identity from the Joker. And yes, the Joker is coming with me to England. Please don't judge me. I need his help, even if he does have the moral fiber of a newt. On that note, Scabior is with us as well. He has particularly useful information about our enemies. Disturbing allies, I know, but I will keep them in line, one way or another. We have a truce, at least for right now._

_Trust me when I say I would rather have you by my side. But Gotham needs you, and I would rather be forced to keep company with the Joker and Scabior than unleash them on the citizens of Gotham. Where we're going, they can do much good._

_Please don't be angry with me or come after me. I promise to write you when I can to let you know I'm okay. I will see you again in the future - in what will be a better future, I hope._

_Yours truly,_

_Hermione_

Bruce collapsed in the nearest chair and ran his fingers through his hair. On one hand, he was relieved to know she was okay. He had feared the worst. But on the other hand, he wasn't thrilled to hear she was with the Joker and Scabior. She may have her wand, but that hadn't stopped the Joker from capturing her at the fundraiser.

Bruce knew, though, that it would be futile to go after her. He was sure she had already erased her tracks. Besides, she didn't want him to, and she deserved to have her privacy.

Despite what she had written, Bruce's feelings were hurt. She may have said she wanted Bruce at her side, but in reality she had chosen the Joker over him.

Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't gotten to spend nearly enough time with Hermione, and now she was gone.

"Be safe," he thought to himself.

* * *

><p>Hermione blinked away tears as she imagined Bruce's reaction to her letter. Would he never want to hear from her again? Or would he be heartbroken?<p>

No, he was much stronger than that.

The Joker's snore broke Hermione away from her reverie. He shifted his body and his head fell on Hermione's shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but didn't wake him up. It was good he was asleep, that way he and Scabior wouldn't have a row. The Joker had instantly fallen asleep when they had gotten on the plane. Scabior, on the other hand, was far too nervous to sleep, though he would never admit it. He didn't seem to quite trust the muggles' ability to build a metal machine that could fly. Scabior had muttered several times about the size and weight of the plane and how it was impossible for it to stay in the air without magic. Hermione was tired enough to sleep, but didn't want to leave the two by themselves, even if they were surrounded by people. And it wasn't particularly comfortable sitting in the middle.

Hermione was just glad she was even able to leave Bruce a letter. Thankfully the Joker had been busy collecting supplies. Scabior was in charge of erasing their tracks, so no one could follow them, and Hermione had left on the pretense of arranging their travels. She had fulfilled her task, but she had also made a stop at Bruce's penthouse.

It was bizarre, no surreal, to be sitting on a plane between a psychotic mass-murdering muggle and the Head Snatcher, whom she had been running from all these months. Never in her life could Hermione have predicted that this would happen.

Yet she hadn't felt this elated, this hopeful since before the war, before the uprising of You-Know-Who. Hermione was finally joining the fight again, except this time she had a few surprises in her arsenal for the Death Eaters that awaited them. It was everything Hermione had been wishing for since she was first imprisoned in Malfoy Manor. Though it wasn't what she had expected, it was the best chance she would ever had.

Hermione smiled her first true smile in a long time.

She was going home.

* * *

><p>AN: The end. Thanks so much for reading, and do leave a review! Also, check out the sequel (it's already up!), which is titled The Hunter.

RandomWriter90 - Thank you so much for coming with me along this journey. You've given me great feedback since the beginning. I honestly could not have done this without you!  
>BooklvrAnnie - Thank you for being such a loyal reader and for all the encouragement! I hope the ending lived up to your expectations.<p> 


End file.
